The Hades Chronicles III: Tartarus
by Basilisk9466
Summary: Conclusion to the Hades Chronicles. With the Asphodel destroyed, all that is left for the unlikely sextet is vengeance on the mastermind... the insane supercomputer known as Tartarus... Complete.
1. Chapter 1

>Wait!>

But the silhouette didn't wait. Spiketail dived after it, around the corner.

Another long corridor of pristine metal lay before her, and disappearing at the far end into another side-area was her target.

>Stop running! Where are you going?>

The silhouette made no reply, but rounded the junction.

>Did I do something wrong? Come back, please!>

Spiketail switched to all fours to go faster, and reached the junction. Ahead of her lay another, eerily similar corridor. But instead of a corner at the end, there was a door, just closing.

She flung open the door, and found herself in an immense room. The walls were close together, but the end vanished into the darkness. And it _was_ dark, far darker than the dimly lit metal behind her.

The walls themselves had changed; they were covered with Alien resin.

A few metres ahead of her, a neat little desk with a computer on it lay. Working at the computer was a figure that she knew.

>Haines?>

The figure straightened, and looked at her sideways. "Good morning, Dr Kail. How are you today?"

>But… you died. Months ago.>

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" said the scientist. "At your hands, too. Or should I say teeth? That tongue of yours can make quite a mess, as you can see." He turned to face her head-on, and Spiketail recoiled.

Blood was spattered over the man's face, and just above the brow was a ragged, bloody hole exactly where her inner jaws had smashed through. Jagged fragments of bone and brain tissue were just visible.

"Funny how fragile the human body is, isn't it?" he said with a sad smile. "I suppose I should be grateful. You killed me all in one go. But I mustn't keep you to myself. There are others who want to meet you." He gestured behind her.

She spun to face her blind spot, and found that the door and corridor had vanished. Five men and women in various military uniforms stood watching her silently. All were horrifically mutilated beyond any possibility of living.

"You remember me?" said one of the men. Blood and entrails dripped from his back. "I never even knew you were there. All I felt was claws ripping through the driving seat and disembowelling me backwards. A painful death, even if it was quick."

"How about me?" said a woman with a Private's uniform and a gaping wound across her stomach. "I'd unloaded all my ammo, and was down to a pistol. You let me empty it against your armour before you ripped me open across here and left me to bleed to death."

>There were others attacking me! I didn't have time to finish it!>

The other three said nothing, just stood looking at her. They weren't accusing. There wasn't any emotion there. They just looked.

"And we're only the beginning of the list," said Haines. "Here's another already."

With a certainty that she knew what she would see, she turned to face Haines.

A man stood next to Haines. More she couldn't tell, as the figure had no head.

"You killed him on the Queen's orders, I believe? But why did you choose to simply pull his head off? Quick, certainly, especially with your strength. But not the cleanest way to do it."

"But mine wasn't quick," came a child's voice.

Again Spiketail turned. A small boy stood there, countless claw marks running through his flesh.

"You toyed with me." The voice was calm, emotionless. "One rip at a time. Nothing fatal. Just enough to cause pain and fear. It was ten minutes before you tired of the game and ended it. But even that was slow. You ripped out my heart, and watched as my body shut down."

"A game that you played with us, as well." Standing with Haines were another twelve people with the same, horrific claw-marks. "Something you enjoyed doing. A way of relieving stress, to use the words you said to the Queen to explain your habit."

"And what about us?" Three more had appeared, once again behind Spiketail. Their only injuries were a huge hole in their chest, the bones snapped outwards. "You may not have done the deed yourself, but you took us to the hive for implantation. You watched as our 'children' emerged with satisfaction."

>It was for the hive! All… for the hive!>

"And that was the reason for our deaths as well?" Two men in the uniforms of spaceport workers had appeared, both with necks at unnatural angles. "Our only fault was to be occupying the cargo bay when you brought the stasis cage into the loading area for the **_Charon_**."

>That's all of you! I remember your deaths, and _I don't regret them!_ Leave me alone!>

There was silence.

"Are you sure? Why did you come here?" asked Haines. "Is that Kail speaking, or Spiketail?"

As one, her victims began chanting. "Spiketail! Spiketail! Spiketail!"

* * *

>Spiketail, wake up!> 

Spiketail snapped back to conciousness. >What!>

Shadow backed off, sensing something wrong. >We need to start moving again. I thought you'd been dormant for long enough. Are you all right?>

>I'm fine! Fine. Just… forget it. Are we going or not?>

Shadow looked at her carefully, and then moved to wake up the other sleepers, leaving Spiketail to her thoughts.

She hadn't dreamed for… well, since before the retrovirus. Sometimes there were… visions during dormancy, but they were always a direct result of the Queen. There were no hives anywhere near, and even if there were, what would be the point of creating that sort of vision? True, they sometimes used their abilities to influence other species – back at the facility, everyone had had dreams about the Queen that prompted them to release the hive. There had been some close calls until the locking system had been personalised to only three people.

Humans could find these dreams disturbing to the point of nightmarish, but they were not _intentionally_ so. No, this was no matriarchal vision.

_"I do wish you wouldn't do that. Seeing a kainde amedha looking you in the face as you wake up is a sure way to cause heart failure."_

>How else would you like me to wake you?>

Spiketail tuned out the chatter between her five companions, and fell into her usual position at the rear of the march.

What was it that she had been chasing at the beginning of the dream? She strained her memory, and saw glimpses of dark skin and a long tail. A xenomorph drone.

Talon.

She steeled herself for the inevitable flood of emotion. Apart from the one flare of anger immediately following Talon's death, she had remained outwardly cold for the half-day since the fiery destruction of the **_Asphodel_**, and intended to remain that way.

She hadn't seen eye-to-eye with Holly Chance from the moment that they had met, and that had not changed much with the change into Talon. That last argument, if nothing else, proved that!

But there had been a kind of bond. They both had the same, straightforward approach to life. And if nothing else, Talon had been her protégé! She had been _responsible_ for that drone.

And 'that drone' had died when the last real conversation they had had was a bitter argument. Without her being able to do a thing.

Except, perhaps, be more cautious about Vathris. She'd had all the clues, dammit! Talon herself had explained about T-T. The attacks had been too regular, too patterned. The destruction of the attacking hive too convenient.

And if she had put it all together before sending Talon off so blithely to meet with Vathris, she wouldn't have been on the **_Asphodel_** when it had been destroyed by Tartarus.

Hell, if Talon hadn't met with Vathris, the hive probably wouldn't have been destroyed. **_Asphodel_** would still be on the ground, and life would be vaguely normal.

Instead of tramping along with Shadow, a couple of humans, and two aliens that considered xenomorphs to be merely challenging prey. And they were going to see more of them. A full shipload, in the faint hope of persuading them to lend a hand in destroying an insane supercomputer.

Thank you for that bright idea, Shadow, she thought acidly.

She liked Othar'a and her brother. They had a certain simplicity in their world that she could associate with. But when it came down to it, the Aliens and the Predators were mortal enemies. Shadow had been remarkably reticent about his encounter with the 'Space Jockey', but she had guessed as much from what little he had said.

Something probed her mind gently, and she started before realising that it was Shadow.

_>I told you, I'm fine!>_ she snarled.

_>You've been quiet since the **Asphodel**_ _went down, but not as much as this. Something happened while you were dormant. Come on, you can tell me. It's not as though there's anyone else. I'm beginning to understand what the old Queen said about loneliness.> _

_>'The ultimate curse for any of our kind.' Look, I think it's something I need to work through on my own. Please?> _

She could tell he wasn't convinced, but he withdrew back into the verbal banter.

It was true, they were alone. Two drones. Not enough to create a Praetorian egg. One of them would have to Transform.

'One of them'. It would be her, of course. Shadow had never shown even remote interest in climbing the xenomorphic hierarchy. Besides, it wasn't exactly as though she didn't want to Transform.

Or was it?

_If you're the one who will take over the Hive, why haven't you done it already?_ Talon's accusing voice echoed through her head as though she were hearing it right then.

She shook herself. She wouldn't get any answers by letting her problems bury her.

"…so what sort of welcome can we expect from these friends of yours?"

Othar'a clattered her mandibles in a dry laugh. _"Not a very warm one. Secrecy is one of the first lessons drummed into any would-be Hunter. You may know that we exist, but we like to keep anything more than that to a minimum. We don't even like other races knowing that we exist – it was unavoidable with oomans. Two warriors Hunted on Earth approximately five hundred of your years ago, and both died as a result. We had no idea how far the knowledge of our existence had spread, so short of exterminating your entire race… something worthy of the Old Ones in callousness."_

Shadow briefly translated this, and then turned back to Othar'a. >'Old Ones'?>

_"A myth,"_ explained Kal'Arak'e._ "It tells of gods that ruled our people with an iron fist, until they faced another race of gods. They fought each other, and were weakened. Then new gods arose, and freed our kind. Just a tale for sucklings now. No-one really believes it."_

Shadow considered again his decision not to reveal what the Pilot had told him of the common heritage of Yautja, Xenomorphs and the Space Jockeys. This myth of the 'Old Ones' matched what he had heard pretty closely.

>You never know,> he commented lightly. >There might be a grain of truth there. Even myths need a basis.>

_"Perhaps,"_ said Othar'a doubtfully. _"As I was saying, you oomans are unlikely to get a warm welcome. And as for you and Spiketail… where the kainde amedha are not used for the Chiva, we do our best to destroy them. Your race is destructive to all life. It is hardly your fault; you can't help the way that you evolved."_

_"Or were created,"_ put in Kal'Arak'e. _"More than a few of the I'ka'ga'ku – the researchers – have suggested that the kainde amedha could not have evolved naturally, and were created by some race. Although we have never met a race that seems to have that sort of skill with biotechnology, to my knowledge."_

Shadow relayed that one as well.

"You don't hear much when you're raw recruits on a warship," said Elysa thoughtfully. "But some of our scientists have suggested something similar. Some arms companies have tried to 'tame' Xenos in the past. The results haven't exactly been good."

_"I can imagine,"_ said Othar'a dryly. _"Even with the many precautions we take for the Kainde Amedha Chiva, the times it has gone wrong are beyond count. We usually manage to bring the pauk-de zabin under control, but there is at least one planet where they managed to erase all native wildlife before more Yautja arrived to investigate the disappearance of the party."_

>Good description for Aliens,> laughed Shadow, >and one that humans have used on many occasions.>

Othar'a clicked embarrassedly. _"My apologies, Shadow. I'm not used to speaking with kainde amedha."_

>None necessary,> he replied. >Most of the hive has a low opinion of 'normal' xenos. Had.> He sighed. >I keep forgetting.>

"It is small comfort, I know, but it is more likely that the Tjau-ke Thwei will accept you if they have our word that you are alone, with no hive for backup."

Spiketail snorted mentally. >Small comfort is one way of putting it. Tell me, Othar'a, have you ever been completely alone with only your thoughts for company?>

The others looked at her, startled at the sudden entrance into the conversation.

_"Yes,"_ Othar'a replied. _"It is part of the training to become a Hunter. You have to go out into the deserts of our world for several days, and ponder the nature of life, and what it means to take it."_ She paused. _"I think I see what you mean. But loneliness is not something we feel easily. We are naturally a solitary race."_

>In that I envy you now,> said Spiketail sadly. >Even human loneliness, which I have experienced, is nothing compared to the emptiness in the mind of an Alien with no hive. But when you compare the feelings of being in company as a human with the sensations of being in a hive as one of us… it almost makes this worth it. The constant feel of other minds brushing past yours, the knowledge that you are never alone, never unsupported, part of something greater that unites a swarm of the ultimate killing machines into something more than the sum of its parts… that makes it all worth it.>

Othar'a was silent, and then clicked understanding. _"My link with Shadow was brief, and I did not appreciate it at the time, but I have a sense of what that is like. And from that, a faint idea of what you must be feeling now. I am sorry for your loss."_

They walked in silence for a while.

And then all hell broke loose.

With a scream of pain, Elysa fell as a long, root-like thing snapped up from the forest floor and wrapped around her leg, spearing it with the many vicious spines on it. More roots sprang from the ground, but missed and waved violently.

With a roar of challenge, the Predators snapped out their wristblades, and hacked at the appendages. Two were sliced to ribbons, and the rest raised themselves completely from the ground until they were hovering in the air, trailing back into the foliage.

Spiketail leapt for Elysa, who had been dragged into the air and was being pulled away with frightening speed. Shadow was too busy fending off more of the strange roots from himself and Tyrion to join her.

_"Thwei-Dt!"_ roared Othar'a. More of the things dropped on them from above, to reveal themselves to be vines of some sort.

Elysa yelped in shock as she was abruptly hoisted even further. Her vine was now near to a huge tree with wrinkled bark. Spiketail shrieked in fury, and began climbing the tree.

Shadow spat acid at a vine, and it retreated, wriggling as it dissolved.

_"Here!"_ called Kal'Arak'e, and tossed his _ki its-pa_ to Tyrion.

A vine snapped towards the human, he frantically tried to get the combistick to extend. Just as it looked like it was about to coil around him, the weapon extended and sliced through the vine's tip.

Elysa squirmed against the vine holding her captive, and wincing as the spines cut deeper with every movement. As it raised her to the top of the tree, she saw how it had got its name of _Thwei-Dt_.

Instead of a canopy covering the entire top of the trunk, leaves only extended from several outer branches. In the middle was a massive hole, and it was lined with teeth-like thorns. Some strange process made the entire chamber pulse every second or so.

A strange squeaking came to her ears, and another vine appeared from the other side of the Bloodtree, a full-grown Squealer in its grasp. The vine moved its captive over the hole, and then unravelled. The creature dropped into the tree's maw, and the pulsing became more violent. With a horrible screech of pain, the Squealer was impaled by several thorns, and a strange sucking noise filled the air. Blood trailed from around the thorns, and the body was jerked off to lie at the bottom of the Bloodtree's maw. Strange roots extruded themselves from the bloodstained pit, and ripped the still-struggling Squealer apart. There was another pulse, and the bottom of the pit folded over the dismembered creature.

This was carnivorous flora on a grand scale.

Elysa reached for her pulse rifle, hoping to fire a grenade inside the monster, but realised in horror that she had lost it when the vine had first grabbed her.

And now it was her turn. Her vine moved over the Bloodtree's gaping maw, and unwound itself from her leg. She frantically grabbed for the thing, gasping in pain as the spines dug into the palm of her hand.

The _Thwei-Dt_ was not to be foiled so easily. The vine jerked like a wildthing, and even with the spines embedded in her hand, her grip loosened.

She fell – and was intercepted by a black missile flying across the Bloodtree's mouth.

The tree seemed confused for a moment. Its vine no longer held its prey – yet there was no living flesh to consume and drain of blood inside its 'mouth'.

>Get on my back!> snarled Spiketail. >I can't climb down if I'm carrying you like a stung host!>

Elysa did as ordered, gripping the Alien's spines and biting down a scream as the carapace rubbed against her wounds. And then they were moving.

It was like something out of a thrill ride. They were moving almost vertically downwards at terrifying speed, and the Bloodtree had obviously worked out what had happened, as vines slipped out of its trunk everywhere, lashing to find its errant prey.

Tyrion yelped in surprise and pain as a vine lashed itself around his waist from behind, and he clumsily sliced it with the combistick.

_"We need to move! There's no way we can kill a Thwei-Dt without more weaponry!"_ roared Othar'a.

>What about Elysa and Spiketail!>

>We're here!> said Spiketail. >Let's move!>

No matter how many vines they sliced through, two seemed to replace each one. The Bloodtree was persistent, you had to give it that.

And suddenly it was over.

The vines retreated back into the foliage, concealing themselves in the ground to await the next victim to enter their snare.

Tyrion slowly breathed a sigh of relief. "What the hell _was_ that? I didn't see what they came from."

"I did," said Elysa, gritting her teeth against the pain. "Some kind of tree that sprouted those vines, and chucked its victims into a mouth of some sort. It looked like it sucked blood, and then ripped apart the bodies to absorb the rest."

_"Yes. One of the more unpleasant lifeforms on this planet,"_ said Othar'a darkly. _"More so because its bark is tough enough to repel most attacks, so without a plasma caster it is impossible to destroy one. We were lucky we were in a group – the number of vines they send out can overwhelm even a levascara if it is alone."_

Shadow dutifully translated this, and then gave a sigh of irritation. >Maybe it would be simpler if I linked with everyone so that we can share languages. Repeating every word is getting to be a pain.>

_"A good idea, but not now. Elysa's injuries must be treated, and then we must move on. The ship is a matter of minutes away."_ Othar'a pressed several controls on her wrist computer, and a panel on her armour opened to reveal a set of medical instruments.

"I'll be fine, I'm sure," said Elysa hurriedly. She got off Spiketail's back, and promptly fell as her injured leg collapsed. "Or maybe Spike could carry me the rest of the way…"

>Could do, but won't,> replied Spiketail. >What's wrong?>

Elysa grimaced. "I've heard stories about Yautja medicine before."

Othar'a clicked in amusement, and bent forward with a large injector in each hand. _"Unpleasant as it may be, Thwei-Dt vines have a mild venom on their thorns. I wouldn't let it heal by itself if I were you."_

Shadow repeated this, and Elysa sighed. "Make it quick, okay?"

The Yautja pressed the first injector against Elysa's thigh, and pressed. She shrieked as the device flooded her leg with the regenerative fluid. She was expecting it when Othar'a repeated the process with her arm, but she couldn't restrain the cry as the second injector activated.

"That's not something I want to do again," she said weakly. "But I do feel better. I could probably hobble along now."

>Lean on me,> offered Shadow.

"So tell me," said Elysa as they set off again. "How come your medicine is advanced enough to regenerate those sort of injuries, but hurt like hell while they do it?"

_"Not my field,"_ said Othar'a, stifling a laugh. _"I have heard the Chi'de'a say that they do use anaesthetics in these devices, but since most Chi'de'a have a rather twisted sense of humour I doubt it. Ah, that's where we left the ship. I appreciate that you can't see it, but – oh."_

>I can certainly see it,> said Spiketail. >Is that a Xenomorph thing?>

"Nope," said Elysa. "It's visible."

The two Predators looked at each other ominously. _"The Elder would NEVER leave the cloak off on the ship,"_ said Kal'Arak'e tersely. _"It's just asking for trouble on any planet, let along this one."_

At an unspoken agreement, they both broke into a run, closely followed by Spiketail.

As they drew closer to the Man'Daca-class ship, they saw the many charred sections on its hull. Next to the ship's main entrance, three Yautja bodies lay. Two had huge sections of armour and the flesh underneath burned away by some powerful force, while the third had massive claw marks running across his eviscerated corpse.

Othar'a kneeled down to get a better look at the bodies, and swore. _"This was our pilot,"_ she said. _"Something must have gone very wrong."_

>You don't say,> hissed Spiketail. >I can tell you that this isn't Xeno work – I know what sort of marks our claws make, and those aren't them. Not to mention we can't do anything that produces that sort of charring.>

_"No. In fact, they are like nothing I have ever seen."_

_"Come! There is no time!"_ barked Othar'a, and leapt inside the ship, snapping open her wristblades as she did so.

The interior of the ship was blackened from weapons fire, and more Yautja bodies were scattered here and there with a mixture of wounds from burns, claws, and some sort of explosive force. Most of them were the Youngbloods, but there were a few full Blooded Warriors.

They finally reached the bridge, and Othar'a pressed the control to open the door, dreading what she might see.

_

* * *

I could have gone on… but I didn't. I'm part Xeno (mentally, at least), I like being nasty… those who have read the Edge Chronicles will recognise the Bloodtree as a Bloodoak, with a few refinements._

_So who's been killing Yautja? What's on the bridge? And what's the root behind Spiketail's dream? All to come…_


	2. Chapter 2

ALL REMNANTS OF VESSEL ASPHODEL LOCATED AND ELIMINATED

NEW FILE GENERATED: GROUP AYH-1

AYH-1 CONSTITUENTS: ALIEN 'SHADOW', ALIEN 'SPIKETAIL', HUMAN 'ELYSA VARBOLT', HUMAN 'TYRION VARBOLT', YAUTJA 'OTHAR'A CHA, CLAN M-DI H'CHAK HULT'AH', YAUTJA 'KAL'ARAK'E CHA, CLAN M-DI H'CHAK HULT'AH'

THREAT LEVEL OF AYH-1: UNACCEPTABLY HIGH

LIKELIHOOD OF CAUSING DAMAGE: MEDIUM

PRIORITY: HIGH

REPORT ARRIVING

GROUP AYH-1 SIGHTED IN SECTOR 798-223-GAMMA, YAUTJA VESSEL

ACTIVATING ATTACK GROUP 928

ORDER: TERMINATE

* * *

Othar'a gave a scream of rage as she saw the bridge. 

The last three youngbloods lay near the door, all dead with the same marks as the rest. And at the centre of the bridge, wristblades and combistick still extended, as the Elder.

Countless wounds ran through his flesh, and the green blood had formed a huge pool around him.

She rushed to him, and reached for the neck to find a pulse.

A slow, ragged breath came from the Elder, and his arm reached out towards her.

_"I do not believe a week has passed, Othar'a cha,"_ he said softly.

Othar'a choked out a laugh. _"My apologies, Elder, for returning prior to the end of the Chiva. More important issues arose."_

_"Possibly… issues… that also arose for us? The… armoured ones?"_

Spiketail moved into the Elder's vision, and he jerked slightly.

"Do not worry, Elder, this is a friend. A long story, which I fear you do not have enough life left to hear."

_"True."_ He coughed blood. _"I didn't think… that I had enough thwei left to cough up any. The… armoured ones were… skilled warriors. I have little time. I will give you the codes needed to control the ship, and then you should… leave. This planet… is no longer… safe. The Hulij-bpe Paya has decided that it no longer wants us here. Go… and warn… the rest of… the clan." _

_"No. This cannot go unavenged. What attacked you? What did this?" _

_"Servants… of the Hulij-bpe Paya. You are… brave, young one. My time as leader of this Hunt is over. Make your decisions in honour."_ The Elder let go a slow, ragged breath, and died.

>Armoured ones,> said Spiketail. >The Cythera, perhaps? But they were no challenge when we fought them before!>

Othar'a pressed several controls on a nearby panel. _"I know, I saw through Shadow's eyes. It makes no sense, unless…"_

>It was a ploy,> said Shadow bluntly. >The Cythera destroyed the **_Charon_** so that we would be forced to go with Vathris to the **_Asphodel_**. Tartarus must have somehow weakened them. A race that challenged the supremacy of the galaxy from… they must have been more effective than we saw.>

_"From what? Did this Tarutaska Amedha say more?"_ asked Kal'Arak'e.

_"You're right, Shadow,"_ butted in his sister._ "This is footage from the Gkinmara."_

The main screen on the ship's bridge lit up to show a small war in progress.

Five Yautja were retreating along a corridor, throwing discs, spears, and even using plasma casters despite the risk to the ship. Their foe was not immediately visible, but as they watched a red spear of light lanced into one of the Yautja. He fell with a cry of pain, and a huge scorched area across his chest armour.

The remaining four retreated away from the _Gkinmara_'s view, and their opponent appeared.

They were Cythera, several different types. At the head were two highly agile ones, armed with two pairs of claws, moving quadrupedally with their upper arms stretched out, reaching for their foe.

Behind them were several of the ones that had attacked the **_Charon_**; long barrelled weapons hanging from their lower arms. Red lances spat from them.

>The Cythera on the **_Charon_** only fired pulses, didn't they?> said Shadow.

The next row was made up of a single huge one. It had two pairs of legs, and its upper arms hung down from the weight of the huge, multi-barrelled cannon on each.

At the rear was another Cythera similar to the lighter ranged ones, but it had heavier armour and a huge helmet. Its arms were constantly in motion, pointing and commanding the other Cythera.

The view of the _Gkinmara_ changed to show five Yautja facing off against the agile, clawed Cythera. Wristblade met claw with brutal force, but no matter how skilled the Yautja were, they were slowly being forced back. One by one, the Cythera overwhelmed their opponents and cut them down with a flurry of slashes.

The view changed again, to the bridge. The Elder stood there, spinning blades and combistick, scything through the swarms of clawed Cythera. Red lances spat across the room, but even when they found their mark he kept going.

But even with such skill and power, he was outmatched. Slowly, his stamina began to tell, a slash here, a punch there getting through his defences.

And then it was over, the mighty Yautja disappearing under a flurry of slashing talons. The Cythera gathered their dead, and left.

The _Gkinmara_ flickered out, and silence filled the bridge.

>I thought this would be difficult before, but after seeing such firepower, it's impossible,> said Shadow. He spoke quietly, matter-of-factly. >If the Cythera could overwhelm thirty Yautja without significant losses, what chance do we have? We should do what the Elder said, and leave.>

Spiketail shook her head sadly in a rare demonstration of returning to human instincts. >You saw what Tartarus did to the **_Asphodel_**. Even assuming that this ship is space-worthy, we'd be shot down before we got away.>

_"I concur,"_ said Kal'Arak'e. _"If Tartarus was willing to spend so much firepower on destroying a Hunting party or an escaping ship, we would stand no chance. Our ships have left here before, but they never encountered such an attack from the Cythera. Our only hope of leaving is to at the very least destroy the Paya's ability to attack us, and preferably destroy the computer itself."_

_"The ship is more or less functional,"_ said Othar'a. _"It can take us into space and will survive there. The cloak is fried, but not beyond repair. But if we try to leave now…"_ She made an explosion gesture. _"Tartarus must be destroyed for all the crimes it has committed." _

"I've no idea what was just said there, but I think I got the gist," said Elysa, wincing as her leg wound stung again. "We need to take out this bloody computer before we've got a hope of leaving Hades."

>But we don't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning against the Cythera! We can barely withstand the local wildlife, and for all we know, Tartarus has worse than the Cythera at its disposal! We just don't have the weaponry!>

Othar'a's mandibles flicked in and out several times in a Yautja grin. _"That is one problem we can soon rectify…"_

>The armoury got trashed, though. Just a few knives left.>

_"You seriously think that all our weapons are stored in the armoury?" _

_

* * *

"Welcome to my quarters,"_ said Othar'a.

The room was typically Yautja; distinctly functional. A few skulls lined one wall behind a glass cover, with three Alien skulls in pride of place.

A strange bed was tucked away in one corner; it seemed to be composed of carefully arranged rocks. Next to it was a workstation with various strange components on it, including a half-built wrist computer.

_"At least the Cythera didn't come in here,"_ she grumbled. _"It's taken me seven rotations to get that thing this far."_

>Seven days?> asked Spiketail.

_"Seven of _our_ days. Approximately four weeks of your time. Now, let me see…"_

Spiketail and Elysa watched as the Predator fiddled with a section on the workstation, and a panel on a wall retracted.

_"Got it!"_ She moved to look in the panel, and a blinding blue light extended from inside.

The light snapped off, and the section opened further to reveal a selection of weaponry and equipment any human mercenary would have been proud of.

At the centre of the display were two plasma casters, with left and right shoulder attachments. Three spear-gauntlets, five wrist-gauntlets, two combisticks, a plasma pistol, four shuriken discs, a smart disc, and a huge variety of blades surrounded them with a indefinable pattern. Spare armour sections and another mask were placed at the top of the armoury.

Elysa whistled. "Just a _few_ weapons, then," she commented sardonically.

Othar'a began extracting equipment and assembling it.

The final result was impressive.

Wrist-gauntlets were strapped onto both arms. A spear-gauntlet was strapped underneath each. The twin plasma casters were carefully attached to her shoulders. A pair of combisticks, the discs, and several blades placed on her belt completed the arsenal.

"Help yourself to the rest, though without the computers in the armour, some of it will be of limited use." 

"How on earth do you intend to use both of those shoulder cannons?" asked Elysa. "The people on the **_Asphodel_** said that they tracked your head movements, or something."

Othar'a grinned, and the 'casters rolled up into 'active' position. She snapped out her arms, and the cannons spun to follow the movement.

_"Most plasma casters do rely on either head movement or mental command,"_ she said as the weapons retracted. _"But the latter is difficult to use. When they're active, I get two targeting windows in the mask that follow their progress. Mandible triggers activate them individually. Took a while to get used to, but they're deadly when used properly."_

The Predator extended both sets of wristblades, tested the motion, and then flicked a finger. They snapped backwards to lie against her arm, and then flicked back to normal.

Spiketail winced at the motion. >Flexibility and duality is a watchword with you, I take it?>

"More or less. Careful with that! The trigger's sensitive!" 

Elysa looked up, startled, and almost dropped the plasma pistol. "What?"

Othar'a snarled in irritation. _"The sooner we learn each other's languages, the better. Kindly explain to that ooman that a) she's pointing that thing the wrong way, and b) that red section is the trigger, and it's touch sensitive!"_

Spiketail sighed, and transmitted the information. >Othar'a's right, we should link so that you can learn the Yautja language. It'll only take a minute.>

Elysa looked doubtful for a moment, then approached the Alien.

As the two heads met, Othar'a left to check in on the others.

* * *

The Cytheran Stalker designated SC-212-928-377 watched the Yautja vessel like a hawk, scanned it, and transmitted a command to the Stalker under its command to advance. 

It flicked through vision modes, scanned the vessel again to locate its targets' locations, and flicked its four sets of four claws in readiness.

There was no particular anticipation about the coming battle. The Cythera had fought thousands of opponents as a race, and the Stalker in question had lived for almost twenty million Earth years. Experience, and a low opinion of its foe, tended to produce a certain disdain for combat.

The unit of Warriors and supporting Destroyer moved in behind the Stalkers, and waited.

* * *

Elysa blinked rapidly. 

"Now that," she said, "was a wild ride. Learning an entire language in thirty seconds is definitely a new one on me."

>You get used to it,> said Spiketail. >Try being a drone that can instantly learn the sum total of the Hive's knowledge.>

Elysa picked up the plasma pistol again, and aimed it. "Bit heavy, but I could get used to it. Any idea what the ammo capacity on this thing is?"

>I've only got second-hand knowledge from Shadow, and he didn't learn much from his link with Othar'a, but I think that they've got capacity for about ten shots before they need to recharge. Thirty seconds to recharge one shot.>

Elysa winced. "Ten shots is a bit painful, but I suppose not needing to reload is good. And with the firepower these things punch out…" She strapped the pistol to her belt, picked up a couple of blades for back-up, and admired the arsenal.

>Wonder what a Xeno with a knife would be like?> mused Spiketail. She picked up a small sword, and experimentally punched a wall with it. The blade snapped after going in a couple of inches.

The Alien looked at the handle disappointedly, and then slammed her claws into the wall edge on. They came to a stop a lot deeper than the sword. >So that's why we never became tool-users,> she mused.

_"Good, you're both ready,"_ said Othar'a, looking in through the doorway. _"Wait a minute. What's that you're holding, Spiketail?"_

The drone looked down at the handle, and realised that she had just broken a Yautja's weapon. >Ah. Sorry about that. I was experimenting.>

"If it's any comfort, we've worked out that Aliens are actually _more_ effective when they aren't wielding a weapon," offered Elysa. "What now?"

_"Now, we scour the ship's records for any clues as to where to go. The source of the energy blast that destroyed the **Asphodel** is probably the wrong place to start; I would imagine that there are lots of those weapons."_

"Whereas we're looking for the heart of the computer itself," completed Elysa.

The Predator did a small double take, and chuckled. _"Strange how habits form. It shouldn't be a surprise that you can now understand our tongue, but it is. Come."_

The trio moved into the corridor, and started moving upwards along a set of ramps.

_"We're going to the main chamber,"_ explained Othar'a. _"We'll be checking the records in there for what has been seen on other Hunts on this world. The others will be looking through the records of _this_ hunt on the bridge."_

A tall, imposing door lay in front of them. Othar'a clicked a command, and it ground open.

The Cytheran seemed to grin through its mask, and swung its claws.

_So how much time have I earned in that hell for cliff-hanger writers now, Miika? Couldn't resist..._


	3. Chapter 3

Othar'a leapt backwards, but the Cytheran moved with terrifying speed, still managing to score four deep lines across the armour plating.

Elysa made a grab for the plasma pistol.

_"No!"_ barked the Predator. _"The canopy is too thin here! If you fire and miss, this ship will never fly again!"_ She snapped out both wristblades to maximum length, and crouched, ready for the attack.

The Stalker moved in a blur, all four arms slashing from different directions. Othar'a blocked two with a wristblade each, but was forced to disengage before her opponent's other arms ribboned her flesh.

Two more Stalkers moved into view, and made for Spiketail and Elysa.

The lead Cytheran abruptly stopped in its offensive, and looked at them. The single, wide eye-slit changed colour from a crimson red that counterpointed their yellowy-tan armour, to blue, emerald, purple, and back to red.

It rose from the strange half-crouch it stood in, lowered its four arms from their attack position, and spoke.

_"You cannot defeat us,"_ it said in strangely buzzy Yautja._ "We are a scouting force. Three more are attacking your companions. More are coming. Surrender." _

"Surrender and we'll live, is that it? Make sure that we don't harm your precious computer?"

The Cytheran's helmet turned to look at Elysa, and spoke in English, with the same buzzing overtone. "You pose negligible threat to the Sentinel. You are offered one chance to join with our master."

Spiketail directed her thoughts at the creature, and found a strange familiarity in the Cytheran's mind. >Your _master?_> she queried.

To her surprise, the alien heard the telepathic message. "What of it? What do you know of the Sentinel?"

>You built that monstrosity! A Space Jockey told us that! You've become slaves to your own creation!>

The Cytheran cocked its head curiously. "Space Jockey? Analysing." The red light emitting from the eye-slit flashed several times. "Species correlated. Our ancient enemy. The Sentinel was constructed by our forebears, and now it guides our efforts. A productive arrangement."

_"How long have you lived in service to your Sentinel?"_

The clawed monster switched back to Yautja instantly. _"I have existed for approximately twenty four million standard Yautja cycles. Twenty million standard human cycles. The first Cytheran vessel to encounter the Sentinel after its activation landed and submitted to its rule approximately one point three two billion Yautja cycles ago, or one point one billion human cycles. A total of five billion of Cythera have existed under the Sentinel's rule, and a current total of five million are spread across the planet's surface."_

>You've served that thing for _over a billion years!_ When was it _built_?>

"Just as the war effort against the 'Space Jockeys' began to fail. We hoped to use the Sentinel to block one of their major trade routes. Unfortunately, the return for the expenditure was minimal. Our homeworld was destroyed by a batch of Corrupted shortly afterwards, and the Sentinel was never put into use."

"'Corrupted'? You mean Xenomorphs?"

The Cytheran's eye flickered, and then it chittered what seemed to be an acknowledgement; the only noise it had made that had not sounded flat and monotonic. "This discussion has no further purpose. Provide a response to the Sentinel's offer."

Othar'a glared at the creature. _"You destroyed this entire Hunt, and the Elder who tutored us. We will not join with you, or that monstrosity you call the Sentinel." _

"Does this Yautja speak for all of you?" asked the Cytheran, monotonic once more.

Spiketail merely hissed. Elysa looked hard at the Stalker, and said "You destroyed my home, and all the people who I had come to consider family. For that, we're going to reduce your Sentinel to scrap metal."

"Your refusal has been acknowledged. Should you survive this encounter, all servants of the Sentinel will treat you as hostile and will attempt to terminate your existence." Without another word, the Stalker crouched down and moved its arms to attack position; two stretched out below its head, two above.

Othar'a leapt backwards to avoid the first slash, and fired both spear-gauntlets at the Cytheran. The darts sprouted in mid-flight into barbed missiles, and slammed into the alien's chest armour.

Somehow the plating withstood the power of the first spear, sending it ricocheting off. The second found a weak point, and penetrated in a spray of transparent ichor. The clawed monster was knocked backwards by the impact, but somehow kept its feet.

The second Stalker made a beeline for Spiketail, using a strange windmilling attack that meant two arms were always slashing forwards. The drone leapt onto the wall, and snapped out her tail. Despite the force of the attack, the stinger bounced off the tan plating.

The third was heading for Elysa, and that meant trouble. She had seen the slaughter of the Yautja on the _Gkinmara_, and the difficulties that her companions were facing now holding off the creatures.

Sensing a weaker opponent, the Cytheran made no immediate attack as it advanced. The red eye-slit flickered to emerald, and then back to red.

It sent a blow her way that would have ripped her apart had it made contact, but she managed to dodge it. Barely.

The lead Stalker had recovered from the speargun shots, was advancing again. Othar'a pulled out a combistick, and fully extended it, sensing that the extra range the weapon gave her was needed.

Telescopic spear met armoured fist in a shriek of tortured metal. The Stalker reversed its blow with startling suddenness, and grasped the combistick. With a yank, it tried to pull her nearer.

Most youngbloods and even a few more senior Yautja might have tried to hold on, but the _Tjau'ke Thwei_ had taught that such an instinct could be fatal. She released the weapon, and the Cytheran tossed it aside.

Spiketail's opponent continued its merciless advance, and try as she might, no opening in the creature's defences yielded to her. It slashed again, and laid her side open. Acid sprayed and hissed through the deck, some of the Cytheran's arm plating smoked.

Spiketail stared at the smoking armour, and grinned as she realised that the Cytheran armour, although hard as nails, was not acid proof. She spat directly at the Cytheran's helmet.

To the Stalker's credit, it didn't panic as the helmet was melted away. It backed away, the smoking helmet opening up, but at that point it made a mistake; it raised two arms to retrieve the helmet.

Spiketail pounced, snapping out her arms to catch the Cytheran's lower arms. With a triumphant screech, she snapped out her inner jaws against the weakened helmet. They punched through, and the Cytheran collapsed backwards, the red eyeslit fading to a dull brown.

The other two Stalkers were apparently not affected by their companion's demise. Elysa's opponent continued to advance, while she dodged its rapid swipes with increasing desperation.

There was no way she could miss at this range, she thought, and drew the plasma pistol.

She raised it, leapt backwards to avoid another swing, aimed, and fired.

The bolt of charged super-heated gas slammed into the Cytheran's armour, and dissipated. The tan armour charred slightly, but there was no other effect.

As she stared in horror and the completely unharmed Stalker, it pounced, and sliced.

Elysa shrieked in agony as the claws ripped her stomach open. Through bleary eyes, she looked beseechingly at the alien standing over her.

It withdrew its claws from her, and raised its talons for the killing thrust.

A black missile slammed into the Stalker, and Spiketail crushed its chest with a punch.

Othar'a was having to use all her skill just to hold the Cytheran leader off. Twenty-four million years of experience were showing, and the few counter-attacks she had made had either been parried or had grazed off the armour with little damage done.

Abruptly it retreated. The helmet rotated, taking in the corpses of its companions, and seemed to come to a decision. A control panel flipped open on one arm, and it flicked a control with surprising delicacy.

There was a flash of green light, and the Stalker dematerialised.

Othar'a spun to Elysa, and snatched for her medical kit.

"Not… my day, is it?" said Elysa weakly. "First I'm nearly eaten by a tree, then I get disembowelled by a creature that's existed since before we evolved."

"Hold still!" the Predator snarled as she inspected the gash. " It didn't go in deep but there's enough damage to make movement a VERY bad idea. And stop dripping acid, Spiketail! You're ruining the deck!"

>All right, calm down! The wound's sealed already!>

The door into the chamber opened, and Tyrion burst in. "They're coming!"

"Who's coming?"

"Cythera, lots of them. We got attacked by three, and managed to beat them off. Then we looked out of the window, and saw that there are lots more coming out of the forest! Shadow and Kal are guarding the door, but – oh my… what happened?"

"Your sister had a small accident involving razor-sharp claws. I think she'll be ok, but… curse those Cythera and their timing! Someone needs to stay here with her to make sure her wounds heal properly, and that drains our defences…"

"I should stay," said Tyrion. "She is my sister, after all."

>Bad idea. There's no way the Cythera could have snuck into this chamber without our knowing about it, and the last one we faced just dematerialised. They must be able to teleport. No offence, but I don't think that you'd be able to face down a charging Cytheran. I'll stay – I'm better suited to this sort of combat environment if they do teleport in. Go, quickly! I'll heal her wounds.>

Othar'a clicked in acknowledgement, and rushed out of the chamber with Tyrion in tow.

>Now, how do these things work?> the drone wondered.

Elysa tried to laugh, but choked up blood. "Work it out quickly, eh?"

Spiketail located the Cauteriser, and activated it. With the brutal efficiency of Yautja medicine, the bleeding stopped to an accompaniment of agonised groans. These turned into full-scale screams as the Alien activated the injector, flooding Elysa's system with the regenerative fluids.

* * *

Othar'a peered around the airlock's outer door, and retreated as an incandescent red bolt streaked past her. 

"How many?" she snarled.

>Eight, I think,> replied Shadow. >One of those clawed ones, six of those ranged ones, and a quadrupedal one with two big weapons.>

"Stalkers, Warriors, and Destroyers, to use the terms used by Yautja who came to this planet in the past," put in Kal'Arak'e. "We have a standoff. Their close-combat troops were all lost, and they would be forced into a nasty situation if they were to attack. Conversely, if we counter-attack, we would be shot down before we got two paces."

"Unfortunately, we can't stay like this," said Tyrion. "They can call up reinforcements any time they like, and for all we know they could blow the ship's hull open if they wanted."

>Can't we take off? Just fly away from them?>

Kal'Arak'e clicked a negative. "The way our engines work, we would have to get quite high up before we could move horizontally. That would put us in the sights of that cannon that destroyed the **Asphodel**."

At that moment, the ship rocked from an impact.

Shadow peeked around the airlock door as the ship vibrated again.

>The Stalker is gone, and the Destroyer is shooting us!> he hissed. >Must be something pretty heavy if it's rocking a ship this size!>

"Some sort of explosive shell," snarled Othar'a. "At least there's one less to worry about."

>Don't you have anything that we can throw, or something like that?> asked Shadow as the ship rocked again.

"I suppose… there are the Thei-bpi-de… Plasma charges," said Kal'Arak'e doubtfully. "But they should never be used on a hunt. It would be dishonourable."

>How about survival? If it makes you feel better, I'll use it!>

"He's got a point. Throw hard; they explode on impact," said Othar'a handing the drone a couple of the charges.

Shadow leapt across the airlock, throwing the charges as he passed in front of the door. There were two blasts in quick succession.

The drone leapt back across the airlock, observing the effect. The Destroyer was in bad shape, but intact despite the incinerated ground surrounding it.

>It's a start,> he commented. >At least we're no longer in danger of getting blown apart inside the ship. Hang on, if you don't use them on a hunt, what the hell do you use them for? Those things reduced the ground to ash around the Cytheran!>

"Secrecy. As I said, we don't like other races knowing we exist. Using the Thei-bpi-de means we can destroy the evidence of our hunts if there is danger of discovery. The Destroyer was killed?"

>No, it's alive, but it's in bad shape.>

Othar'a made an odd choking noise that was the Yautja equivalent of a whistle. "A Stalker took a plasma shot at point-blank range in the Main Chamber without much damage, but… One of those plasma charges can incinerate a Kainde Amedha drone's body completely. The Cythera must have some sort of heat-resistant armour."

"Does this ship have weapons? Could we use them to destroy those Cythera?"

"No. Although a Man'Daca-class ship is well armed, all the weapons have a minimum range to prevent 'backwash' from the impacts."

>Then we're running out of options,> said Shadow grimly.

* * *

Some ninth sense prompted Spiketail to jump aside, which was why she wasn't killed instantly. 

SC-212-928-377 had barely finished rematerialising from the teleport when it was swinging its claws, but Spiketail's instinct stopped the attack from making contact.

>Not you again,> she complained. >You just lost. Can't you leave us alone?>

The Stalker Captain made no response, but lunged again. Remembering her winning tactic last time, Spiketail retreated and spat acid.

The Cytheran's eyes glowed turquoise, and the spit vaporised millimetres from contact with its helmet.

Spiketail dodged another lunge. >Nice trick,> she said grudgingly. >I killed one of your companions with that one.>

"My War-armour has several modifications over the basic model," said the Cytheran, somehow injecting smugness into the monotone. "Including this one." It raised an arm, and a small protuberance glowed red.

A cone of energy spat out from the Repulsor, and Spiketail was knocked several feet back, and slammed into a wall.

Elysa had been watching the match in growing horror, and struggled to her feet, ignoring the shooting pains from the not-yet healed wound. She raised the plasma pistol, and fired three shots into the Stalker. Each one coruscated over the tan armour with little more than a scorch.

SC-212-928-377 looked at her, irritated, and fired a Repulse at her, knocking the loosely-held weapon from her grasp.

Spiketail spotted the opening, and leapt.

As though in slow motion, she flew through the air towards the distracted alien. She was moving far too fast for _anything_ to stop her. This battle ended here. Nice try, Cytheran scum, but no-one beats _me_, she thought smugly.

The Stalker turned, began to raise its arm…

Time snapped back…

Spiketail looked down in shock at the four long claws that had buried themselves in her body.

The Cytheran looked at her detachedly, as though at a recently acquired butterfly pinned up in an insect collection, and flicked another set of claws across her chest. Acidic blood and organs spilled.

The Stalker removed its claws, and Spiketail fell lifelessly to the floor.

Elysa stared in horror, silently mouthing "no". "SPIKETAIL!"

The Cytheran turned towards her, and advanced, claws raised.

Fury rose over loss, and Elysa fired the plasma pistol at the Stalker. On the seventh shot, the Stalker was knocked back, the armour burnt away. She pulled the trigger triumphantly.

There was a dull droning sound as the pistol alerted her to its empty state.

The Cytheran advanced again, and with a flick of a hand, knocked the weapon away. Before she could react, it raised a set of claws, still dripping acidic blood, and plunged them into her semi-healed wound.

She screamed from the double action of the razor-like talons and the acidic blood eating at her innards. The claws were withdrawn, and the Cytheran looked down at her dispassionately.

She slowly crumpled to the floor. Her vision blurred… flickered… went black…

_Oh dear… sorry, Miika, another cliff-hanger. I didn't mean it, honestly… it just happened.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

"Welcome back, Dr. Kail."

Spiketail slowly rose, unharmed.

And saw her surroundings.

"You never answered our question, Dr. Kail," said Haines.

>NO! Not this again! I already told you! I HAVE NO REGRETS!>

"Once again, you do not answer the question. Are you Spiketail? Or Kail? Who represents you _really_? Why did you choose to return to this little corner of your mind?"

>But I _didn't_ choose!>

"If you have no regrets," piped up one of the dead soldiers, "then you have nothing to fear from us."

>You think I'm _scared_! Don't delude yourself. It takes more than a bunch of ghosts to scare _me_.>

"Deluded? Us? We can hear the disturbed tones in your voice…"

"And why would you return to face our accusations," said another, "if you didn't believe that you deserved every one?"

>I DIDN'T WANT TO COME HERE! Facing down a bunch of spectres is _not_ my idea of fun! Now let me _go!_>

Haines shrugged. "We're not stopping you. Your mind had to come somewhere, Dr. Kail. Your body is dying."

>What do you mean, 'you're not stopping me'? The door is gone!>

"Is it?"

Spiketail turned, and saw that the door that she had entered through the first time had returned.

In the doorway was a black shape. The same black shape she had chased.

Talon.

And then it vanished into the darkness of the corridor, and another shape moved into the doorway. Her Cytheran attacker.

Spiketail ran, partly to escape her accusing ghosts, partly to chase after Talon, and partly to deal with the Cytheran.

It reached out a set of claws, and began pulling the door shut.

Spiketail felt something slice into her, and saw on the edge of her vision blood leaking from four fresh puncture wounds.

The door was half closed. The Cytheran looked at her gloatingly, and she felt a jolt of agony as her chest was ripped open in four great gashes.

She tried to cut off the pain as normal, but it wormed its way in anyway, and she slowed.

The door was almost shut.

Fury overtook pain. How _dare_ this alien end her existence now? After all she had faced?

She leapt for the door, screeching in pain as blood and entrails spilled from her wounds.

Then she was at the door, and there was a hairline crack left. Again fury gave her strength, and she jammed her claws into the gap, levering it open.

Fatigue, an odd sensation for a xenomorph, assailed her, but she kept up the pressure.

She could now see the Cytheran, looking at her with that expressionless eye-slit.

The door ripped open…

She leapt at the Stalker…

* * *

…and woke to pain. 

Her senses slowly returned. The door, the corridor, and room, the spectres, were all gone. She was in the Chamber, and there was the Cytheran standing over the limp body of Elysa.

She filtered out the pain as best she could, and pulled a 'damage report' from her nervous system.

Blood loss: heavy, but not fatal. Xenos _couldn't_ die from blood loss, anyway; it just weakened them.

Exoskeleton: ribboned.

Primary heart: reduced to little more than acidic sushi.

Exuryllium gland, which rendered blood and organs so acidic: damaged.

Assorted other organs: bad shape.

Chest muscles: torn in four places.

Another mano-a-mano fight with the Stalker would be fatal. It was miraculous she was alive anyway, without taking more damage.

The Cytheran turned, and moved to the centre of the Chamber, interest in the two corpses gone.

A surprise attack, though…

It tapped several controls on one of its arms, and a panel opened in its armour.

Spiketail stealthily raised herself up, thanking any local deities that her wounds had stopped bleeding already.

The Cytheran took out a small conical cylinder, and crouched down to place it on the floor.

Spiketail got onto her feet, and started moving towards the creature.

It got up, and turned around.

She struck. With a wild screech, she lunged and slammed into the Stalker. Off balance, they both smashed into the floor.

"You were dead!" said the Cytheran in protest.

>Not as dead as you would like,> she replied, and bit the helmet off. The alien's arms jerked reflexively, then fell still.

At that point, her body recalled its debts, and both pain and fatigue hit her like a sledgehammer. She managed one word before slipping into unconsciousness.

_>Shadow…> _

* * *

>Spiketail? What is it?> 

_"Something wrong?"_

>I heard Spike calling. Something's wrong – I'd better go and check.> Without another word, he left.

_"I'd better go too,"_ said Othar'a anxiously._ "If the Cythera managed to get in there, Shadow will need help."_

>Oh my…>

The scene was not a pretty one. Elysa lay spread-eagled against the wall, her newly healing stomach wound ripped open afresh. The Cytheran and Spiketail lay in a jumbled heap in the middle of the Chamber. The floor was pitted with acid all over, and there was a huge melted area in the floor where Spiketail had fallen.

_"Pauk, what a mess,"_ breathed Othar'a. _"Are they still alive?"_

>Barely, apart from the Cytheran.>

"I'm no expert in Kainde Amedha physiology. Will Spiketail recover from her injuries without help? I suspect that our technology will be of no help here."

>I don't know. See to Elysa, I'll have a look.>

_"It would seem that our worries about the Cythera having teleportation abilities were not unfounded,"_ said Othar'a grimly. She gently felt the human's wound, and growled. _"Not just ripped open, but burnt. That pauk-de must still have had Spiketail's blood on its claws when it attacked her. If there weren't still some regenerative fluid in her system, Elysa would be dead. I'm not sure that even with that she'll survive. Not to mention side-effects…"_

Shadow looked up sharply from inspecting Spiketail's wounds. >Side-effects? What side-effects?>

Othar'a looked uncomfortable. _"The regenerative fluid absorbs DNA information from surrounding tissue, and works out what's supposed to go where. As far as I know, I'm no expert. To my knowledge, there has never been an incident where there was DNA from something else in the wound. Who knows what will happen?"_

>Wonderful.>

Othar'a pulled out a variety of medical instruments, and got to work trying to heal the damage. _"How is she?" _

>She should be dead. There's so much damage here that she shouldn't be alive, yet she is. I've never seen anything like it.>

>Can't you be grateful?>

>SPIKETAIL?>

Spiketail flinched slightly. >No need to shout.>

>You're ok? But your injuries… you shouldn't be alive!>

>Thanks a lot,> she replied dryly.

_"What happened?"_

>Can't you guess? It was just the one, though. I wonder why…>

>Where did it appear?>

Spiketail ran through her injuries, and decided to try getting up. >There,> she pointed.

There was a small discolouration at the location she indicated. Shadow moved to look at it, and saw what it was.

A thin panel lay on the floor, giving off a dull green glow. It was so flat that it was easy to see why they had missed it before.

>Some sort of homing device, maybe? Perhaps their teleporters rely on something to home in on,> suggested Spiketail.

"So… there must be another homing device outside the ship for that one to have escaped."

>If we could work the teleporter system, we could go anywhere,> breathed Shadow. >Off the ship… to the Cytheran's base… maybe even to Tartarus itself!>

_"Think! How did the Cytheran activate the teleporter?"_ said Othar'a urgently. _"If we can use it, we can escape this trap!"_

Spiketail thought, and tried to remember what had happened.

Left lower arm.

Second control panel.

>Hold on,> objected Shadow. >That teleporter only moved one of them. If we switch the thing on, it'll just take the body away.>

_"The flash was much bigger than just the one,"_ said Othar'a. _"Maybe it affects an area instead of just one thing."_

Second button on the left was first, thought Spiketail.

>You're riding an awful lot on that assumption.>

Othar'a growled in anger. _"Do you have any better suggestions, Kainde Amedha? If this does not work, we will die."_

Press the small screen on the right.

The argument was swept aside by a small moan from Elysa.

Her eyes flickered open.

"Am I dead?" she asked.

_"Far from it, yeyinde,"_ said Othar'a affectionately. _"Quite the little fighter, you are."_

>Good to see you're all right,> said Shadow.

Elysa winced. "No need to shout, I can hear you fine."

Third button from the left activates.

Shadow looked puzzled. >That's how I normally speak to you.>

She winced again. "It seems… louder, somehow. I presume from the mild agony… that my stomach's in, you've been playing doctor again?"

"Yes. Your healing may have had side-effects, though, due to the Kainde Amedha blood in your system. This may be one of them."

Healing. Side-effects. The realisation hit Spiketail, flushing aside all thoughts of the teleporter.

_>I think I have an idea of why I'm still alive,>_ she said to Shadow.

"I'd like to know as well," said Elysa.

Both of the Xenomorphs froze. >You _heard_ that?> demanded Spiketail.

_"Heard what?"_ asked Othar'a. _"Did you say something?"_

"You said you had an idea about why you're alive," said Elysa.

>But… that's impossible. That was a _hive link!_ Nothing apart from other Aliens should be able to hear that!>

>If you somehow… are now connected to that,> said Shadow slowly. >We have to put more force into our thoughts to make them heard by you. Maybe that's why you thought I was shouting…>

Othar'a sighed. _"Let's hope that the side-effects stop there. You know have some Kainde Amedha DNA in you, Elysa. How much and what effect it will have, only time will tell. What's your idea, Spiketail?"_

>Nothing,> she said. >Not important. I've remembered how the teleporter was activated.>

>We should test it –> began Shadow.

>How?> Spiketail asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. >The moment we press that switch, it'll take us away with no way back. We get one shot. Do we take it or not?> She struggled to her feet, feeling the pain lessened already.

"We take it. No other choice. Call the others up."

* * *

REPORT RECEIVED AND ACKNOWLEDGED, ATTACK GROUP 928 

SENSORS CONFIRM NO CASUALTIES IN AYH-1

ALL MEMBERS OF AYH-1 HAVE LEFT GUARD POSITIONS

LIKELY CAUSES BEING CALCULATED

MOST LIKELY CAUSE CALCULATED

WITHDRAWING ALL GROUPS TO HOMING BEACONS

ATTACK GROUP 928 NEW DIRECTIVE: ADVANCE ON YAUTJA VESSEL

CALCULATION ENDS

ORDERS TRANSMITTED

AWAITING NEW INPUT

_

* * *

"I hope you remembered correctly, Spiketail,"_ said Kal'Arak'e anxiously.

>Get as close to the body as you can,> Spiketail ordered. >Anyone too far away will probably get left behind.>

She pressed the first control. The panel lit up, and several glowing circles with a symbol next to each appeared on it.

Presumably a targeter. Go for something a good distance from the centre; that would take them a long way away from this ship, with any luck.

She pressed a circle with the symbol '¬', and then pressed the final control.

The panel hummed for a moment…

A green flash…

A horrible sensation of falling…

Being stretched…

Compressed…

Cold…

Green flash…

And then it was over.

She looked around, and to her relief saw that everyone was there. The hunch about 'area of effect' had worked out.

She took another look around, at their surroundings.

It was the **_Raphael_**. The huge skeleton of the Queen, and of her guards, still lay where they had died.

Othar'a tensed as she saw the body of the Queen, the sight bringing up the unpleasant memory of one of the toughest fights of her life.

>We're safe, I think,> said Shadow. >I don't see anything living inside the hive. Not many creatures like to enter a hive, even if it's empty.>

>We'd better make sure,> said Spiketail. >Come on, Shadow, we'll check the entrance. You four, make yourselves comfortable and get some rest. We won't be able to stay here for long.>

The two moved off through the resin coated corridors of the ship in silence for a while.

_>I take it that you wanted to get away from prying ears?> _said Shadow eventually.

Spiketail chuckled. _>What does one have to do to get privacy nowadays? You think you have a foolproof method, and then someone goes and gets the ability to tap in.>_

Shadow laughed too. _>What was this revelation of yours?>_

Spiketail was silent.

>If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I'm not exactly an ideal confidant on Alien matters, I know – you've told me that enough – but I'm here if you need to talk.>

_>It's begun.>_

Shadow stopped, puzzled. _>What has?> _

_>The Transformation. Within a week, I will be ready to enter my cocoon and become a fully-fledged Queen.> _

Shadow remained silent, waiting.

_>It's odd. Almost since I was injected with the retrovirus, I've wondered what it would be like to have the power of a Queen. And when I got glimpses from the old Queen, and even from that bitch Spineback, I knew that I wanted it. And soon, it's going to happen… I've been thinking about it a lot recently, expecting the Transformation to come soon, but… I don't know. Maybe I didn't really believe it somehow.>_ She laughed mirthlessly. _>Bit of a change, really. A year ago I was just an ordinary scientist, looking for the next job. A nobody. Now, I'm about to turn into one of the greatest beings in the galaxy.>_

_>And are you happy?> _

_>I don't know. I'm having… dreams.> _

Shadow looked at her quizzically. _>Another Queen?> _

_>No. I'd know what another Queen's touch would be like. This is… different. Coming from me.> _

_>But we _can't_ dream. I haven't had a single dream since the change. It just doesn't happen.> _

_>Exactly. Dreaming takes up brainpower, and when we go into dormancy, everything shuts off, including all but the most basic functions to maximise regeneration. But…> _

_>Was it a dream that made you so vicious before we got the Yautja ship?> _

_>Yes. And… I had another while I was fighting for life after the Cytheran almost killed me. In them… forget it.> _

Shadow almost pushed her to continue, but decided better of it.

_>What a strange set we make,>_ he said. _>I've stayed constant, always trying to stay moral and ethical despite the change and the constraints that came with it. You started as pretty human, then became a psychopathic killing machine, and then you changed again. I think you tried to submerge it, and it's beginning to come through now.>_

Spiketail said nothing.

_>What's the next step, do you think?> _

_>Head towards the place the shot that destroyed the **Asphodel** came from,>_ replied Spiketail, relieved at the change of subject._ >Going back to the Pred ship would be suicide. We're running out of options.> _

_>We could try to navigate the teleporter network,>_ suggested Shadow.

_>They'll probably know that we used it to get out, and will be watching all the homing beacons. No, we'll have to do it on foot.>_

_>Let's get back to the others. And Spiketail…> _

_>Yes?> _

_>I'm always here, if you want to talk.> _

_>You already said that,>_ said Spiketail, but there was gratitude in her voice.

_

* * *

Many many apologies for leaving you all on such an awful cliff-hanger for so long. I had a touch of writer's block. No doubt you'll be relieved that it's not another cliff-hanger. I'll try to keep them to a minimum, so you can come back now, Miika…_

_I'm curious: how many of you guessed that Spike and Elysa hadn't actually died? Anyone?_


	5. Chapter 5

They marched in silence through the forest, watching for any potential threats.

_"Are you sure that we're going the right way?"_ asked Kal'Arak'e._ "That blast came from a long way away, and it's easy to get lost here! We can barely see thirty nok in any direction!" _

Elysa sighed, and paused, leaning on her makeshift crutch. "That's the third time you've asked that. Leave them alone, they know what they're doing."

>Shut it, both of you,> said Spiketail, her temper fraying. >I can't think properly with you interrupting all the time.>

A large beetle-like insect buzzed at them, and then flew off at high speed.

"I wouldn't want one of those flying at me," commented Tyrion.

>What did I just – one of what?>

"Big beetle. Didn't you see it?"

>No. What was it like?>

"About ten centimetres long, shiny blue… it didn't stay long, I didn't see much."

Spiketail was silent for a moment. >Probably nothing. Let's keep moving.>

"Look! There's another!"

Spiketail spun to look, and saw the strange insect. It had long legs that dangled from its body as it hovered, and a curious little tail that bent underneath its body.

She swore.

>Parakin larva! That means the adults can't be far off! RUN!>

"Surely an adult can't do us any harm if the babies are that size," objected Tyrion, sprinting to keep up with the speeding Xenomorph.

>You've never heard of Parakin? Pray you don't have to – what's that?>

A noise similar to a helicopter sounded above them, and an _adult_ Parakin dropped to the ground in front of them.

It looked similar to the larva, but bigger. Much bigger.

It would have been eight metres long if its tail had been stretched out backwards. Vicious, serrated mandibles jutted forwards from a more conventional set of fanged jaws, and clattered constantly. Four relatively thin pincers extended from next to its mouthparts. Its wings were not the classic transparent insect membranes, but massive sheets of carapacing in two pairs. Four small, yellow eyes at each corner of its mouthparts completed the monster.

It observed them for a moment, twitching constantly.

"What the hell _is_ that thing?" hissed Tyrion.

>Parakin,> replied Spiketail. >I've only seen them once. They're highly territorial, and very protective of their young. Watch out for the sting, the venom is paralysing.>

With a deafening whirr, the Parakin's wings snapped open and pulled the creature into the air with impossible ease. It moved at terrifying speed straight at them, pincers and stinger at the ready.

Tyrion drew his borrowed Speargun, and fired three shots. The little darts morphed into barbed spears in mid-flight, and slammed into the winged monster's carapace.

The shots penetrated, and the Parakin gave a strange, buzzing shriek of pain, but continued to attack.

And then the thing was on them, jabbing with pincers and stinger while it hovered a couple of metres off the ground. Spiketail leapt to one side as the long tail slammed into the ground where she had been a second before.

The two Yautja attacked in earnest, swinging their weapons in wide arcs that hammered into the creature's thick shell. Despite the damage being done, the Parakin seemed unaffected apart from becoming steadily more enraged.

Spiketail leapt for the creature, hoping to get a hold on its blind upper surface, but was battered away by the humming wings. As she jumped to her feet, she spotted a problem.

With a noise like a like a giant chainsaw, the second Parakin dived for the battle, leaning out pincers to snatch away anyone vulnerable.

Elysa looked up from trying to get a clear shot, and sighed. "Not in the mood, you overgrown dung beetle," she snarled, and unloaded the plasma pistol.

Huge chunks of the creature's armour were melted off, but it seemed unaffected by the barrage. She dived for cover, swearing as she landed on her injured leg, and swivelled to see where the Parakin had gone.

Tyrion spun to see the flying tank coming straight at him. He yelped, and brought the bulky Speargun to bear.

With impossible agility, the creature pulled out of its dive, snatching the human with its pincers. Both jaws and mandibles clattered excitedly, and the pincers raised him to the Parakin's maw.

He fired the Speargun's fourth (and last) round. The dart went straight down the Parakin's throat, the sprouting barbs ripping its innards apart. With a buzzing scream, it ploughed into the ground, and fell still.

The first one was not going down so easily. It had learned to be wary of the Yautja's wristblades, and fended off their attacks with flicks of its front legs. They were increasingly on the defensive, as the creature lunged with its tail again and again.

Shadow and Spiketail watched in increasing agitation. They had tried several times to join the fight, but they lacked the 'arm's length' weapons of the Yautja, and were easily battered away each time by the throbbing wings and occasional kicks from the Parakin's legs.

As Othar'a's combistick was battered away yet again, she lost patience. The twin plasma casters came online, and came to rest aiming at the giant insect.

It lunged, knocking the Yautja off balance. Twin blasts of superheated gas erupted from the 'casters, setting a tree on fire but having no other effect.

Kal'Arak'e leapt forward, but was battered aside by the creature's wings. The Parakin squealed in triumph, and raised the helpless Predator to its jaws.

"Hey, you!"

The Parakin paused, and its attention turned to Elysa.

"I might only have one shot, but it's going straight down your throat, you ugly mother-" The rest of the sentence was drowned out by the blast of the plasma pistol.

The creature managed one screech of agony before the superheated gas incinerated its vital organs.

Everyone slowly relaxed.

_"My thanks, human,"_ said Othar'a. _"It takes bravery and skill to make a shot like that, especially with your injuries. You have earned a name among our kind for your deeds. I name you Ye-Luins'tayak'a, the bold one who will not die. Apt, considering your injuries."_

Elysa bowed her head in thanks. She knew little of Yautja culture save for a few glimpses while Spiketail had taught her the language, but giving a Yautja name to a species that was usually considered prey was a rare honour.

>We should get moving again,> said Spiketail. >There may be more of them. To my knowledge, the Parakin live in small groups of two or three, but there's no sense in taking chances.>

Tyrion looked at the body of the Parakin he had killed, and went slightly green. "I used all the spears," he said. "I'd better get them out."

>I'll help,> said Shadow. >It'll be quicker, and as Spike says we shouldn't stick around.>

Tyrion twisted the spears on the first creature, and they retracted their barbs, returning to the small telescopic dart form. He snapped them into the rough-and-ready ammo chamber of the Speargun, and turned to look at the second Parakin.

"You know, I'd actually rather face another of those things than have to get the last one," he said. "The _outsides_ of those overgrown beetles are bad enough without adding the insides into the equation."

>One advantage of being part of a hive for the best part of a year,> commented Shadow as he flexed his claws. >You lose any ability to be squeamish.> He picked his spot, and ripped off a section of the Parakin's upper shell.

Foul-smelling, semi-liquid yellow flesh and blood spilled from the gash. Tyrion retched, but managed to control himself, and peered into the creature, looking for the gash marks of the spear.

>There,> said Shadow, pointing to a small section of metal protruding from a long tube. >Shall I get it?>

Tyrion steeled himself. "No, I'll do it. I won't always have a Xeno there to do the dirty work." He plunged his hand into the mess, twisted the spear, and pulled it out. A section of yellow goo dripped slowly from the dart onto the ground. Hastily wiping it, he snapped it into place with the rest. "All right," he said. "Let's go."

_

* * *

"So what was your role on the **Asphodel**?"_ asked Kal'Arak'e curiously. _"I've studied oomans in some detail, and I know that you are younger than you might expect on a military vessel like that." _

Tyrion shrugged, and kicked aside a section of particularly recalcitrant undergrowth. "You're right, we're both eighteen. We were only fourteen when the **_Asphodel_** crashed here. Kind of stupid really," he mused. "We never knew our parents. Just raised ourselves on the streets of Centauri 5, just about getting by." He paused, reminiscing. "We both had dreams of going into the Marines. Once we were in there, we could wipe out the bugs swarming over Earth. The arrogance of youth…"

Kal'Arak'e growled in faint amusement. That was something both species had in common.

"Then there was a big fuss about this new warship being built, looking for crew. Elysa and me just snuck aboard one of the transports and stowed away on the thing. We were found, of course, and got brought before the captain. Hell, that was scary… but I managed to stand my ground, and say that we'd always wanted to help mankind rid itself of all its enemies. Then he just grinned, made some comment about there not being much danger on a warship, and the next thing we know we're more or less the ship's mascot. We spent a couple of months finding our way around that thing, and then it crashed on Hades." He snorted. "He was right. No danger while we were on the **_Asphodel_**. But that's not possible anymore, thanks to that bastard of a computer. What about you? I don't know much about Yautja."

Kal'Arak'e considered the question. _"Well… we have three different castes, each of which has a different role in society. First, and foremost, there are the Arbitrators. Our people are solitary and nomadic, for the most part, and have no real leaders, but the Arbitrators would be them if we did. They enforce the Law, hunt down those break it, and act as role models for the rest of us. _

_"Then there are the Hunters, the K'cha'ku. Our role…"_ The Predator paused. _"I'm not actually sure. It is not something I have ever considered before. To become a Hunter is a great honour; it shows that we have the courage and will to go out into the universe and prove ourselves to be… I don't know. Worthy, perhaps. It is just the way it has always been. We have the respect of all, but do not necessarily have control. It…" _He struggled to find the words, and then flicked his mandibles in and out in a helpless shrug. _"Some Hunters live and Hunt together in a Clan, finding comfort in friendship and support. Others become Warriors; loners who have no time for the restrictions of duty, only for their own… quests, I suppose. _

_"Finally there are the Searchers, the I'ka'ga'ku. They are a caste that I almost joined; those Yautja who find a wonder in the world around them, and a desire to _understand_, follow that path. There are two subsets of them; the Healers, the Chi'de'a, who concern themselves with not only caring for the sick and wounded, but also find interest in life and nature as a whole. The other subset are the Teki'ke'a, the… Tinkerers. They help to repair and maintain equipment, and find their interest in the mechanics of the world, immersing themselves in numbers."_

"So they build all those weapons that you use?" asked Tyrion.

Kal'Arak'e clattered a negative. _"It is a tradition amongst the Hunters that you are not allowed to use weapons and equipment you cannot build and maintain yourself. Once you have proved you can do that, you may seek help from the Teki'ke'a; Othar'a had some help in creating those twin plasma casters. There are a few exceptions, for particularly sensitive and complex items; the Self-Destructs, for example."_

"A theory of if you don't understand what it can do, you shouldn't have it?"

_"Partly. The other side is that you must earn your equipment."_

Tyrion remembered some of the marines on the **_Asphodel_**. "A lot of humanity's problems might have been avoided if we followed that philosophy."

_"There is little to tell of how my sister and I came to this world. We completed our training for the K'cha'ku, and took the Kainde Amedha Chiva –"_

"The what?"

_"When a Hunter reaches the end of his training, and his Elders consider him ready, he and several other Unbloods are taken to a remote world. Several… Xenomorph is your term, is it not? Several Xenomorph eggs are placed on the world, and allowed to hatch. Once the drones have matured to full size, the Unbloods are landed on the planet, and given the task of destroying the Kainde Amedha. Those that kill a Kainde Amedha are marked with its blood…"_ He gestured at the burnt symbol on his mask. _"What happens to those who fail depends on the manner of their failure, and the nature of the Elder governing the Hunt. Some are taken back, to have another chance in the future. Some are killed for their weakness."_

Tyrion winced. "Sounds pretty harsh."

_"The Chiva sums up our society. Those who succeed survive and prosper. Those who do not have no place. As I was saying, we both passed the Kainde Amedha Chiva with honour, and our next step was our own. At that point we learned of a world where the prey made that on our homeworld (which are no pushovers) look like zabin insects. We made our way to the Tjau'ke Thwei, who rule this area, and asked to join the Youngbloods being taken here. We have been training on this world for almost four of your months, now. What of your society? I learned little from Shadow's memories."_

"I suppose we have castes as well. The military protects us, the scientists are like your Searchers, then there are all the people who make the world run… and the government rules the lot. There's not much else to tell."

_"And who has the role of the Arbitrators?"_

"The government makes the laws, and employs police to enforce those laws. When it suits them. Some governments try to be fair and honourable, but others are just out for themselves."

Kal'Arak'e looked shocked. _"Then why are these 'governments' not replaced?"_

"They're too powerful. And other governments just turn a blind eye, usually."

_"What a strange, corrupt society you live in,"_ the Predator remarked.

"It's a vicious circle. Those who are most likely to get into power usually have relatives in power, so they are brought up with that corrupt mentality. Those few who do become part of the leadership who _are_ decent, honourable people are usually shouted down whenever they propose something that doesn't suit everyone else."

They walked in silence for a while.

Abruptly Spiketail, who was a little ahead, stopped.

>Good news and bad news,> she commented. >The good news is that I can see the place where that blast came from.>

"What's the bad news?" asked Elysa.

>This.>

They came level with the drone, and saw the problem.

A massive drop lay before them, a near vertical cliff-face that went down almost a hundred metres. At the bottom was a huge swamp.

On the far side, barely visible, was a dome-structure lying next to a wrecked ship.

_"That's the source?"_

>The dome or the ship, yes. I'm not sure which. But at the moment, we've got a bigger problem to deal with.>

>Only slightly…> remarked Shadow sarcastically.

_

* * *

Second chapter in a row without a cliff-hanger… well, sort of._

_Once again, many thanks to Veriea Fornnan for creating the caste names, and not kicking up a fuss over me 'borrowing' various bits of Pred lore from Fuzzies. Oh, and to my knowledge the way the Speargun works here is different to in any other canon or fic; just makes more sense to me that the shots work a bit like a combistick. Much more portable, to begin with…_


	6. Chapter 6

Elysa yelped, and squeezed her ride tighter.

Spiketail stopped in irritation, and said, >You know, you're not making this any easier.>

"Sorry," the other replied. "It felt like you were going to slip there. And… it's kind of a big drop."

>Well let me concentrate! I could climb this with ease if you weren't clinging on like that!>

There was an ominous crack from a few metres over, and Othar'a looked at her climbing blade anxiously where it was dug into the rock.

They had made it almost fifty metres down the cliff-face, with the humans hanging onto the Aliens.

Unfortunately, they were only half-way down.

>Damn.>

"Shadow?" asked Tyrion nervously.

>No more claw-holds. I need to drop to the next set.>

"No, don't you da-aaaaaaaaaaaargh!"

The drone adjusted himself and his passenger. >That wasn't so bad, was it?>

"You weren't the one seeing the ground start rushing up!"

>Don't look down, then.>

Othar'a kicked her toe-spikes into the rock, tested the new hold, and moved down again.

Elysa took a deep breath, and looked down to check their progress. Something seemed out of place from her last look.

Something was _moving_ in the swamp. And if it was big enough to see from this height…

"Spiketail? Do you see something down there?"

The rockface crumbled, and Spiketail snatched another hold. >No, and too busy to look. Describe it.>

Forty metres up.

"I can't see what it is, just… movement. Something big. It's making big ripples in the swamp. And… it's heading this way."

* * *

GROUP AYH-1 HAS BEEN LOCATED IN SECTOR 809-215-ALPHA, OUTPOST C-20 

NEW ORDERS CREATED FOR DEFENCE GROUP C-20-1-D

ORDERS TRANSMITTED

TERMINATE ALL ACTIVITY

CALCULATION ENDS

* * *

>No, it's nothing I've heard of,> said Spiketail. >This could be bad.> 

Some ninth sense prompted Shadow to look towards their destination, and he spotted three little spots of tan.

>Cythera!> he snarled. >Just what we need. We're sitting ducks here.>

Kal'Arak'e turned to look towards the little specks, and zoomed the view. _"Destroyers!"_

There was no further opportunity for discussion, as the cliff above them exploded.

The Destroyers fired again, their explosive pellets blowing metre-wide craters in the rock.

>At least they're bad shots,> said Shadow.

_"On the contrary,"_ replied Othar'a. _"They are very good shots indeed. They are weakening the cliff. Climb for your lives!"_

Cracks erupted across the rock from the craters, and splinters flew everywhere as the Cythera fired again.

Thirty metres to the bottom.

An ominous rumble sounded, and a section of rock a little away from them detached from the cliff and fell into the swamp below.

At that point, the Cythera altered their aim.

>Ah!> yelped Shadow as the blasts narrowly missed his tail. >What now? We can't go up _or_ down!>

_"Soon that will not matter,"_ said Othar'a grimly.

The cliff-face shuddered from another impact…

And with an almost graceful motion, began collapsing.

>Hold on!> said Spiketail.

"You don't say…" replied Elysa as boulders rained down past them.

A roar of fury came from a few metres across, and the section holding Othar'a fell away. The Predator used every trick at her disposal, but all simply scored through the rock or pulled it away with her.

Shadow leapt for the next set of rock-face, hoping to avoid the avalanche, but was slammed into by a boulder. A cry of pain from both him and Tyrion was heard briefly over the tumult, and then they vanished from sight in cascading rubble.

Then there was no time to consider everything else, as the section of rock that they clung to loosened…

Cracked…

Loosened again…

Fell…

The boulder smashed into the swamp below at almost a hundred kilometres per hour. The muddy water exploded out in another huge wave, rebounding off others caused by earlier collapses.

Spiketail swam like fury for a patch of high ground, holding onto the limp body of Elysa. As the drone hauled them out onto (relatively) dry land, the girl coughed, and her eyes flickered open.

"We made it?"

Another large chunk of rock slammed into the mire, and water flooded over them.

>Just,> replied Spiketail tersely. >I haven't seen the others. And we're about to have a bigger issue to deal with.>

"Those Destroyers?"

Spiketail looked briefly to where the Cythera had been shooting at them, but saw no telltale flash of tan. The armoured warriors must have considered their job done. >No, they're gone. I'm more worried about those electrical signatures I can see about twenty metres away.>

"Where?"

>I think it's your ripple-makers. And they're coming closer.>

"What do they look like?"

>My electrical senses don't work like that. I can only see… regions. Wait! Something over there!>

The water's surface erupted at the indicated point, and Shadow broke the surface, dragging a comatose Tyrion.

>You two made it, I see,> he commented. >Tyrion's the worse for wear, I think he took a knock in the fall.>

>I think we're about to get attacked by the local fauna,> replied Spiketail darkly.

Shadow panned his head around, and abruptly redoubled his pace for the island. >I see them. Three BIG electrical signals, slowly heading this way. Spreading out. Then another five 'differently coloured' ones coming from various other directions.>

>What?> Spiketail spun, and saw the _other_ signals. >Shit. I missed those.>

Shadow leapt onto the small island, and quickly checked Tyrion.

Water bubbled over one of the more numerous signals. And the creature's head was revealed.

At first it looked like a huge set of overlapping, brown armour plates, with a conical ending that rose three metres above the swamp. As the cone turned to look down at them from its vantage point, it split open four ways.

Within was a circle of teeth that constantly thrashed inwards, outwards, inwards, outwards. A repulsive, pink fleshy appendage was visible behind the teeth, and it flickered out like a snake tasting the air. Even ten metres away, a stench of rotting flesh could be smelled, and a lump of half-digested meat fell from the creature's maw.

Elysa retched in disgust. "Plate worm," she gasped. "Haven't seen one of those for a long time. Watch it, they move like a bat out of hell."

The plate worm's jaws closed, and it retreated beneath the surface.

Elysa grabbed hold of the thin mangrove tree, and got to her feet. She drew the plasma pistol (which she somehow had held onto), and fired several shots at the water. Steam billowed, muddy water bubbled, and a hollow grunting squeal echoed upwards.

Spiketail swore as the plate worms abruptly accelerated with unreal speed. They ploughed onto the island, jaws gaping and emitting choked squeals.

Elysa fired six shots before the pistol ran dry. Two hit the armour and seemed to have no effect, the other four went straight down the gaping maws of two of the plate worms. They ground to a stop from their humping movement, steam and a horrific smell venting from between their plates. The other three ignored the fate of their fellows, and continued at their unreal pace, squealing eagerly.

Shadow leapt for one, Spiketail for a second. The plate worms' armour quickly proved to be vulnerable to their attacks, and the creatures grunted in discomfort. The plastic-pink innards were ripped apart with ease, but the worms didn't even seem to be slowed in their torturous attempts to rid themselves of their attackers.

The third continued its single-minded charge at Elysa. She dived sideways as the creature paused, avoiding a jet of clear goo that it shot out – paralysing venom, she thought – and the giant invertebrate seemed confused for a moment.

It regained its bearings, and evidently decided to forgo the venom. The tongue shot out, wrapped itself around her leg, and began pulling her in.

The pistol whirred mournfully at the lack of power, and she tried to use it as a hammer to hit the sticky appendage. It squashed wetly, but no other effect was noticeable.

That was when the _other_ signals decided to join the fray.

The worm attacking Elysa squealed in discomfort, and dropped her. She scrambled to her feet, and turned to see what had happened.

The plate worm had been ripped into four pieces. The three creatures responsible hissed, and turned to look at her.

Sabre eels. Slightly shorter than the twelve-metre plate worms, but a whole lot more vicious, with a piranha-like set of teeth lining long, hinged jaws. Technically fish, but capable of coming on land using their three pairs of huge, muscled fins. Plate worms' worst enemy.

Everyone else's too, come to think of it.

The sabre eels lunged towards the two remaining plate worms, and Shadow and Spiketail narrowly escaped the death of the giant bugs.

The eels retreated back into the water, dragging the plate worm carcasses with them. Rending sounds echoed from the murk as they fed.

Tyrion groaned, and his eyes flickered open.

"Good, you're back in the land of the living," commented Elysa.

>What the hell were _those _things?> asked Spiketail.

"Sabre eels. If you think the plate worms went fast, they're nothing on these creatures. We've seen them cover two hundred metres in three seconds. Highly territorial, too. They'll kill if you're just in their area. We're safe for the moment; they're happy with those plate worms and they don't really care about things on land."

>But we need to cross the swamp… and they'll go for us the moment we go into the water, yes?>

"I'm afraid that sums it up," replied Elysa.

* * *

Othar'a groaned as she pulled herself from the water. Her vision in the swamps had been a mess, but she had seen enough of the planet (and planets in general) to know that swamps were not a good place to be, lifeform-wise. 

She scanned the area, and saw Kal'Arak'e a few metres off.

_"Brother! You made it!"_

The other laughed. _"You think that a drop like that would finish me off? I'm destined to die at the hands of some enraged prey, little one." _

_"Little one yourself,"_ she replied, also laughing. _"I'm bigger than you!"_

_"Not by much… all right, I'll shut up! Put your wristblades away!"_

There was a loud buzzing, and they became serious.

_"A parakin?"_ asked Kal'Arak'e tersely.

_"No. Pitch is too high. It's something much smaller. Keep your weapons ready."_

The source suddenly came into view.

It was the size of a domestic cat. Clearly an insect of some sort, it had huge mandibles and three sets of fangs. A single compound eye directly above its jaws completed the ensemble.

Another appeared.

A third.

Two more.

_"Othar'a…"_

Three more. There were now eight of giant insects swarming the clearing, and by the sound of it more were coming.

The creatures didn't seem to think it was worth waiting for more of their kind, and dived for the Predators.

Wristblades flicked out and spun, killing four of the creatures instantly. Then they were too close to use the blades, and were _biting_…

Kal'Arak'e yelped, and slapped off the one attacking him. He turned to help his sister, and swore.

Othar'a was having more difficulty. More of the bugs had arrived, and there were now five swarming over her.

She screamed in pain and terror, wresting off one of the creatures that was attacking her mask. The venom from the insects' fangs abruptly began taking hold, and she half collapsed.

Kal'Arak'e stormed forwards to try to help her fend off the vicious bugs, but another five swarmed his way, blocking him.

Othar'a collapsed completely, her struggles weakening. The stingers stopped merely injecting their venom, and started hunting for exposed flesh.

_"Sister! Roll up if you can!" _called Kal'Arak'e. He fired his netgun.

The steely cable wrapped up his sibling, slicing the insects to ribbons. He switched off the 'contract' setting on the net, and fired his plasma caster around the clearing, methodically bombarding every possible surface.

The smoke and heat persuaded the stingers to retreat, and they were suddenly alone.

He dived for Othar'a and sliced open the net holding her.

"Are you all right?" 

She coughed. _"I've just been bitten by large zabin at least fifty times, including in some sensitive areas. They were just about to eat me alive. No, I'm not all right. I've never seen…"_ She coughed again. _"Never seen anything like them."_

_"You're not thei-de, and that's the main thing. Can you walk? How strong is the venom?"_

She tried to get up, swore, and collapsed again. _"Too strong."_

Kal'Arak'e fed some commands into his wrist computer, and extracted the two 'medicine knives' that were standard equipment for Yautja that were less medically bent. Not as effective overall as the intricate devices that Othar'a used, but a generally good pick-me-up.

She reached out for them, sighed, commented _"Some day I'm going to train you in using _proper_ medicine,"_ and plunged them into her stomach.

Her roar of pain echoed across the swamp.

* * *

>Did you hear that?> said Spiketail. 

"It sounded like Othar'a. They must be in trouble! Come on –"

>Hold on,> interrupted Shadow. >I've heard those two in combat and elsewhere enough to know that was pain from healing. If they are in trouble, it can't be that bad. We need to sort out _our_ situation.>

>I agree. Any suggestions?>

"Why ask _us_?" asked Tyrion a little waspishly. "You've been playing this game for longer than us."

>Not against ten metre long fish that cross swamps in the blink of an eye and eat twelve metre worms for breakfast.>

"All right, shut up everyone! I'm trying to _think_…" snarled Elysa. "All right, I have an idea. But you won't like it."

>This should be good…> commented Spiketail.

"Shut it. Look, I've got ten shots on this thing. One thing we discovered when we were exploring this area was that sabre eels don't like heat. We used a lot of flamethrowers to keep them back – it alerted every eel in the area to where we were, but it kept them off. This thing fires superheated gas. If we climb onto you guys, you swim like fury, whoever takes me goes in the rear, and I fire the pistol backwards generally…"

There was silence for a moment.

>You ARE kidding me,> said Spiketail. >You wouldn't be high enough above the water to pull it off.>

"Not if I was sitting up instead of just lying alongside or getting dragged along. Do YOU have any better ideas?"

>I suppose if we get close enough to shore, the Predators might turn up and give us some cover…> said Shadow reluctantly. >I _really_ don't fancy going toe to toe with those eels. I think this is our best shot.>

Spiketail sighed. >All right. I'll take the rear. Get on.>

"If you're worried about it not working…"

>Of course I'm worried about it not working!> she snapped. >But if _I'm_ carrying you, there's no chance of cock-ups on the ride's part. Get on!>

Tyrion grasped one of Shadow's spines, and Elysa climbed onto Spiketail.

>We'll try to stay near the surface,> said Spiketail shortly. >If this doesn't work, I'll hunt you down in the afterlife. If anything's going to kill me on this planet, it's going to be that bloody computer, not some overgrown goldfish.>

"I'm ready," said Elysa.

The drones leapt into the swamp and swum.

The eels abruptly turned and accelerated from their meal. Invisible above the surface, the only sign of their passage was a bow wave.

Elysa fired a trio of shots at the heads of the waves, and they stopped for a moment before redoubling their speed, gaining fast.

But they had lost a few precious seconds… she fired again, another trio of shots. Again, they slowed, paused, accelerated.

"How far?" she called.

>Ten seconds,> replied Spiketail.

Shit. They'd be overtaken in five. She fired her last shots, gained maybe a second, and then there was nothing left to do.

Four seconds to meeting, and eight to shore.

Three seconds to overtake, seven to shore.

Two and six.

The water erupted with another plasma shot, and a roar of challenge echoed from the shore.

Shocked by the impact, the eels slowed again. A barrage of superheated bolts came from the shore, and suddenly they were climbing out.

The eels stopped, and then decided to return to their territory.

"Nice timing," said Elysa.

The Predators laughed. _"Any later and you would be food for whatever those creatures were,"_ said Othar'a. _"I'm just sorry we didn't pinpoint your location sooner. The venom in my blood took longer than I'd hoped to heal." _

>Venom?>

An all-too-familiar buzzing sounded, and three stingers landed a few metres away. Othar'a shot two of them, and the third vanished. _"Those,"_ she spat. _"They hunt in swarms, and their venom overcame me. If it had not been for Kal'Arak'e's swift thinking, I would have been eaten alive."_

The buzzing returned, all around them.

"That's a story for later," said Tyrion. "Run, for the dome!"

They ran towards the dome and the wrecked ship that they had spotted, the buzzing of the stingers growing all around them.

"Which one? The dome or the ship?" 

>The ship! The dome is just the weapon that destroyed the **_Asphodel_**!>

Abruptly they reached the ship. The hull was the same tan colour of the Cytheran armour, and a strange door lay in the side, with a small control panel nestled in the middle.

Elysa slapped the panel and, miraculously, it opened. They sextet swarmed inside as dozens of stingers began buzzing out of the undergrowth. The door closed on them, and an angry thudding sounded for a few seconds before the insects gave up.

>We made it,> said Shadow.

_"Just. Now we're inside a Cytheran hulk, with Cetanu knows what opposition nearby,"_ commented Othar'a.

_"Your presence here is not welcome,"_ came the buzzing voice of a Cytheran.

Four Warriors peered into the corridor, and raised their weapons. Shadow and Spiketail lunged, and caught off guard, the armoured aliens were ripped asunder.

Othar'a lowered her plasma casters with a sigh. _"At this rate there won't be any left for us,"_ she said. _"Is it just me, or was that easier than it should have been?"_

"Probably," said Elysa. "But let's just keep looking on the bright side, eh?"

They advanced cautiously down the corridor to the junction the Cythera had emerged from.

"So what's the plan?" asked Tyrion. "Just keep looking around and hope that we find a corridor labelled 'to Tartarus' central core'?"

>More or less,> replied Spiketail. >Since none of us can read Cytheran, we've got a problem, haven't we?>

_"So we need to capture one and persuade it to show us the way,"_ suggested Kal'Arak'e.

Elysa abruptly paused, and suddenly clutched at her head.

"What's the matter?" asked Tyrion anxiously.

"I can… _feel_ something…" She regained her balance. "It's nothing. Let's keep going."

>No, you're right,> said Spiketail slowly. >Very faint… like a Queen, but different. Something out there is operating a Hive of some sort.>

Elysa frowned in concentration. "I remember from your link with me… yes, it is like a Hive. But look harder. Something more familiar."

Spiketail hissed in frustration. >I had it for a moment, but then it went. I had an image of something for a moment, then it was gone.>

"Yes… a symbol… come on, I have an idea."

"What?" 

"We need to find a teleporter."

"What about those Cythera we killed on the way in?"

_"No,"_ said Othar'a. _"I checked them briefly. They must be only installed on the commanders."_

They moved through the eerily silent corridors until they found a large, circular room. In an alcove was a large control panel, and a section of flooring similar to the homing device, but much larger.

Spiketail moved over to the controls, and hissed in satisfaction. >Yes! These are the same as the ones that we found before! This is a teleporter!>

"On a much bigger scale," mused Elysa. "Something more commonly used, perhaps, instead of a tactical device."

Spiketail flicked on the panel, and the circle of symbols showing locations reappeared. The drone snarled in fury. >I don't remember the symbol that we were sent.>

Elysa moved forwards, and spotted it. ())(() "That's the one," she said, and reached out to press it. "Get on, everyone."

_"Why are we trusting the information of an unknown source? For all we know, this could send us into the bowels of the planet with no way out, to die slowly of starvation."_

Elysa stopped, puzzled. "I don't know. I just… trust it. Instinctively"

>Same here,> said Spiketail. >It's like an old friend, even though it's not something that I've ever 'heard' before.>

>I didn't get it as strongly,> said Shadow, >but I had the same feeling.>

Kal'Arak'e shrugged. _"In that case I trust you. Press it."_

Elysa pressed the symbol…

A flash of light…

Unbearable cold…

Green everywhere…

Rushing…

Darkness…

Sensation…

Five Cythera staring at them in confusion…

Spiketail recovered first, and leapt. The first Warrior was ripped open before he could react, but the death set the others in motion, including the two Stalkers.

Shadow joined the fray, closely followed by the Yautja.

The battle was short and bloody, quickly leaving only one Stalker duelling Spiketail.

She was steadily losing ground to the scything monster, and felt wall behind her.

Screw this! 

She used the wall to propel herself forward, and slammed into the Cytheran. She sliced into the weak spot of the armour just as its arms contracted.

Acid sprayed from several big gashes, and she hissed in pain.

>Spiketail!> said Shadow. >Are you all right? Those look nasty.>

>I think… I need to regenerate…> she said slowly. >Wake me if anything comes nearby…>

Othar'a looked down at the limp body helplessly. _"What now?"_

>I guess we wait… she'll be fine. This won't take long. Look, her wounds are beginning to fuse already.>

There was a distant clanking, and Elysa looked up nervously. "I hope she doesn't take too long. This place is giving me the creeps."

They seemed to be in some sort of underground facility, solid rock lining the room. Sections of tan panelling started just up ahead.

>Me too. Can you feel that?>

Elysa frowned for a moment, and gasped. "That hive's much closer now…"

>Yes, except it isn't a hive. I've been among Aliens long enough to know what their minds feel like, and that isn't it. I wonder what horrors Tartarus has down here…>

_

* * *

Sorry for the delay, guys! Illness didn't make up for half-term as expected, and horrible writer's block didn't help. From here the pace should pick up… _


	7. Chapter 7

Spiketail woke in darkness.

"Welcome back, Dr. Kail."

She sprang up, and looked around to see the familiar faces of her victims.

>You again,> she said.

Haines shrugged and grinned. "Where else would we be? Consider us your personal baggage."

>I have nothing more to say to you. My mind _knows_ that. So why do I keep coming here?> she mused.

"Search me," the scientist responded wryly. "As I said, we don't bring you here."

>What is this place?>

One of the soldiers shrugged. "Death? The afterlife? Call it what you like. A little slice of it."

It hit her. The first time… the first time she had been chasing Talon. And she hadn't seen that elusive silhouette since…

>I've been looking for someone,> Spiketail said quietly.

_¬Us, perhaps?¬_

She spun to see the spectres of Spineback, and all of the Hive.

>I'm not responsible for your deaths,> she said.

Spineback's smiled mirthlessly. _¬Did I say you were? Maybe if you had been a little faster… if you had stopped Talon from going to Vathris… so many ifs. But it's irrelevant.¬_

>Is it?> To her shock, Spiketail realised that guilt over the failure to protect the Hive was welling up.

_¬Remember our philosophy, little drone. Those that die are always replaced. You are replacing me already. The Transformation has begun. As for the rest of us… what are drones? Pawns in the great scheme of things. When you finish the Transformation, you will understand.¬_

>Perhaps,> said Spiketail doubtfully. >I didn't come here to find you, even though it has eased a pain I didn't know I had. I was chasing someone when I first came here. Talon.>

Haines shrugged. "She is not here. She is not among the dead, else I'm sure that she would be here right now."

>But I came after her! She went through the door to come here, and…>

"You haven't seen her since, I think," said Haines.

>How can she be alive? I saw the **_Asphodel_** get reduced to _ash_! Nothing could survive that?> She groaned. >This is a figment of my imagination. Some horrible fragment that wants me to live in forlorn hope. Well I'm not playing that game! I'm going now, I'll destroy Tartarus, become a Queen, and leave you in peace! It's _over_!>

Spineback bowed her crested head. _¬If that is what you believe, so be it. How do you know that something else brings you here, not these humans you killed, but something subconscious? Think about it, little drone.¬_

The dark corridor blended into nothingness, the Queen's words echoing through her mind.

* * *

>Spiketail? Wake up, something's coming!> 

She regained consciousness instantly. >What?>

"Cythera, probably," whispered Elysa.

They moved towards the corridor, listening to the distant tramping.

At the end of the corridor, they caught a brief glimpse of a column of Cythera moving by, and then the marching faded. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Doesn't anyone find it odd that T-T isn't trying to hammer us flat?" asked Tyrion.

"He's right," said Elysa. "From what we've seen of Tartarus, it should be monitoring us right now, and readying a battalion of Cythera to wipe us out for good."

_"It didn't get to be one and a half billion years old through stupidity,"_ mused Othar'a. _"It must have some trick up its sleeve." _

They reached the junction, a spherical room with a slightly transparent panel on one side.

Abruptly it lit up.

YOU CANNOT SUCCEED IN YOUR ATTEMPT TO DESTROY THIS FACILITY

_"We can give it a damn good try,"_ snarled Othar'a. _"You have taken something from all of us, and we will fight you until our dying breath if we must."_

YOUR ACTIONS ARE NOT LOGICAL. SURELY SURVIVAL IS A PRIORITY?

Elysa snorted. "Suvival?" she snarled. "I've seen firsthand what you do to those who don't fit in with your schemes. You don't like 'rogue elements'. You'd wipe us out at the first opportunity."

I HAVE BEEN FORCED INTO HOSTILE ACTIVITY BY YOUR ACTIONS. RETURN TO THE TELEPORTER AREA AND YOU WILL BE RETURNED TO A SAFE LOCATION

>Safe?> snarled Spiketail. >Nowhere is _safe_ on this planet.>

To her surprise, Tartarus picked up the telepathy. THE MORE LETHAL SPECIES ARE UNDER MY CONTROL. SUITABLE COMMANDS WILL RENDER YOUR EXISTENCES MORE COMFORTABLE

"Anyone would think you were scared," commented Elysa.

YOUR REFUSAL HAS BEEN ACKNOWLEDGED. WITHDRAWING ALL CYTHERA

IF YOU INTEND TO CAUSE ME ANY DAMAGE, YOU HAVE AN OBSTACLE TO CROSS FIRST

The screen darkened.

Abruptly the Aliens and Elysa winced as the strange feeling from the 'hive' doubled in strength.

Lights flickered off, and Tyrion swore. "Anyone have a light?"

Elysa switched on the torch on her belt, and tossed another to her brother. "Lucky _one_ of us thought of everything."

>What the hell is sending out that signal?> snarled Spiketail. >I thought it might be Tartarus itself for a while, but now I don't think it is.>

_(Blame us for that.)_

They spun, searching for the source of telepathy. Mocking laughter echoed through their heads.

_(You'll see us soon enough. Come closer, my pretties…)_

_(We've been waiting to prove ourselves for so long…)_

The voices mounted up, building into one universal, sibilant hiss that resonated in their minds.

>What are you?> challenged Spiketail.

They stopped, and then the laughter came again. _(As I said, you'll see us soon enough. Consider it a reunion of sorts…)_

>What are you talking about?>

Again the apparitions laughed. _(You'll see… soon, _everything_ will become clear…)_

The voices faded, and they slowly recovered.

_"I have a very bad feeling about this,"_ said Othar'a. _"Whatever those things were, there were more of them than us. And say what you like, when they spoke it felt like one of you speaking. Alien."_

>Reunion,> said Spiketail. >What on earth has Tartarus been playing at?>

"Only one way to find out," said Elysa grimly. "Come on."

They walked through the dark corridors, finding no signs of life anywhere.

And then they entered an amphitheatre.

The room was tall, and filled with narrow ledges along the walls. At the far end was a gently glowing portal, with lit tan corridors just visible.

"That must be where we have to go," said Tyrion, rushing forwards.

He stopped as a silhouette appeared in the doorway. He flicked the torch over it, and gasped.

It was as though someone had blended human features with Xenomorph, Yautja, and something else. The skull was fairly human, but the jaws and nose had combined and jutted forward. Long fangs were visible inside the maw, and short Yautja mandibles lay alongside the mouth.

The creature was lanky, with spindly Alien limbs tipped with long claws. The body itself was viciously ridged, a trait that continued to the long, winding tail that ended in a barbed stinger that was far more dangerous-looking than a standard Xeno one.

Eyes remained in the forehead, but the eye sockets overshadowed them so that only narrow slits could be seen. Very dark green skin all over completed the assembly.

_(You see? A reunion!)_ The crossbreed laughed. _(Let me answer the question bubbling through your minds. It's only polite. We are the **Asphodel**'s legacy. The very lab used to create the retrovirus that changed your little friend also spawned the retrovirus that created… us. The Hybrids. The best of both worlds, plus a few… extras. And to answer your second question… don't you recognise me, Othar'a?)_

Othar'a stared at the apparition. _"It can't be. Ery'lors'e cha? You died during the attack on the ship, surely." _

_(Not died, just… appropriated by the Sentinel.)_

"Then you will help us! You can see what Tartarus has done –" 

_(No.)_

The ex-Predator smiled as he repeated the answer. _(No. We are part of Tartarus now. We serve the Sentinel in every way. Including your deaths. Enough chatter.)_

With that, slithering movement sounded from all around them, resolving itself into a total of six Hybrids. There were variations between them, perhaps based on who (or what) they had been originally; some had mandibles, others had rope-like substance trailing from their heads in a mockery of hair.

_(One each,)_ said Ery'lors'e cha. _(Pick whoever you like the look of most…)_

Silently, the Hybrids lined up. And without warning, charged.

Elysa was the first to strike, planting three plasma shots into the torso of the Hybrid attacking her. It hissed, and fell backwards. Even as she gave a yell of triumph, it leapt to its feet and renewed the attack.

Again she shot it down, and again it recovered miraculously.

Spiketail was the second to make contact, pouncing on the smallest Hybrid that had chosen to attack her. They grappled, claws slicing, before falling apart, ready for the next round. The Hybrid had taken the worst of it, but to Spiketail's horror, even as she watched the wounds fused together.

_(Yes, little drone,)_ the Hybrid hissed. _(Hurt me as much as you like and I'll always stand back up…)_

>Nice trick,> she replied, injecting as much scorn as possible into her voice. >It'll just take me longer to kill you, that's all.>

Lips drew back from fangs in a hideous mockery of a human smile. _(You wouldn't hurt your old friend Artemis Gearing, would you?)_

Othar'a spun the combistick, trying to hold off Ery'lors'e cha's vicious attacks. He paused for a moment.

_(How many times, Othar'a cha?)_ he asked with a mocking impression of the Elder. _(Blocking like that may be effective against another Yautja, but will spell doom against something with more than one weapon!)_ He smiled. _(Remember that, Othar'a? You'll learn the truth of it today.)_ He lunged, claws slashing and tail snapping forwards. Othar'a leapt sideways, and planted the combistick in the Hybrid's stomach before wrenching it out.

The wound simply fused together, and the Hybrid growled appreciatively. _(Good, a challenge…)_

Elysa swore silently as the Hybrid continued to advance, mandibles flashing and claws flexing. _(That hurt,)_ it snarled. _(Your death will be equally painful.)_

"I don't think so," she shot back, firing another shot. A clawed hand snapped up, taking the blast and virtually melting before the regenerative abilities kicked in. It winced, but gave no other reaction.

Elysa did a quick recount of the last few seconds. Seven shots fired in about fifteen seconds. Not good, considering the pistol's ammo capacity and recharge rate.

She snapped off the last three shots, dropped the pistol and snatched for the pulse rifle that had lain dormant at her side for some time. As she looked up, she realised the Hybrid was writhing in pain, clutching its face.

She hesitated. The reaction hadn't been this extreme before.

The claws withdrew, to reveal a horrific mess of tortured and twisted flesh and bone. It slowly crumpled back to its proper appearance, but there was no doubt about it: it had taken longer to regenerate the facial damage than anything else.

Why?

Spiketail stared at the Hybrid facing her. Battle raged all around them, but that was suddenly unimportant. >You can't be,> she said. >Artemis died on the **_Asphodel_**.>

_(The Sentinel saved me,)_ it replied. _(I do not know why. I lost everything on that wreck, and the Sentinel restored me. I now serve it in every way.)_

The repetition of Ery'lors'e's words struck a chord in Spiketail's mind, but she ignored it. >How?>

The Hybrid gave her a sly look. _(You want to know if any others survived. I won't give you the pleasure of knowing. It will torment you in your final moments.)_ On the last word, it pounced.

Spiketail was caught by surprise by the attack, but recovered quickly. Claws slashed and teeth ripped, and again the combatants fell apart. The drone had learned her mistake, though, it attacked again, not giving the Hybrid time to recover.

Artemis yowled, and fought back viciously, giving as good as she took. Acid sprayed from wounds on both Hybrid and Xenomorph, and smoke rose in columns from the floor around them.

Othar'a was only vaguely aware of the battle around her – she had to focus on the hulking silhouette of Ery'lors'e completely to avoid the lethal blows he rained down. She had long given up on attacking properly, reduced to a bewildered defence. She had fought against Yautja that knew how she thought before, and against _Kainde Amedha_ that had the strength and speed to inflict serious damage quickly, but the Hybrid combined the two assets.

The creature paused. _(You're losing, Othar'a. Why not give up and let me finish it quickly? Stop this slow, torturous struggle?) _

_"If you can even suggest that, you have lost every shred of Yautja!"_ she replied, taking advantage of the lull to make a vicious swipe with the combistick. The Hybrid sidestepped the blow easily.

_(You see? You tire. It slows you. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you that that is fatal.)_

With unbelievable swiftness, the monster slashed forwards. Claws ripped through the armour and found vulnerable flesh. Othar'a roared, and swung the combistick violently, but the damage was done. Green blood oozed from the wound, and waves of pain and fatigue washed over her.

Fury welled up. She had fought worse than this mixed-up creature, and suffered worse injuries. She had taken down a Queen with this weapon!

All regard for personal safety was lost, and she lunged, slicing and thrusting like a mad thing. For the first time, Ery'lors'e lost some of his/its complete confidence, and was put on the defensive.

Elysa looked at the Hybrid, wondering how she could take advantage of this new-found weakness. The plasma pistol had slowed it down. Maybe something stronger…

She fumbled with her ammo belt. "So what's it like being a Hybrid?" she asked, playing for time.

It paused. _(Powerful,)_ it mused. _(The ability to regenerate any injury instantly gives such freedom… and we have the strength to do what we like.)_ The far away look in its eyes vanished, replaced by hatred. _(All my kin have tasted blood today, and I have not,)_ it snarled angrily. _(Now I intend to change that.)_

"That's nice," Elysa smirked, and fired the grenade launcher.

As though in slow motion, the little cylinder spun end over end towards the Hybrid. It hit…

Compressed…

Time snapped back, and the grenade exploded, taking the Hybrid's head with it. The body crumpled one part at a time, and fell to the floor.

Elysa watched with baited breath. If it regenerated from that…

Flesh flowed out from the cauterised neck, and blood dripped onto the floor. The regeneration slowed, but a rough outline of the head appeared.

It stopped, and the Hybrid fell still.

Elysa gave a yell of triumph, and spun to find her next target. "The HEADS!" she screamed. "They can't regenerate them quick enough!"

Othar'a heard the words, and the switch of attention nearly cost her her life. The Hybrid lunged, trying to take advantage of the gap, and she dived backwards, slashing down. Ery'lors'e recoiled, hissing.

She leapt to her feet, and the Hybrid pounced at the same moment. They collided, and the combistick was knocked from her grasp. They fell to the floor, with the Hybrid on top of her.

_(Now, Othar'a cha, you die,)_ the ex-Yautja said softly. It opened its jaws, and leaned forwards to rip her throat out.

_"I don't think so, you traitorous little…"_ With a monumental effort, she levered an arm free of the creature's grip, and snatched its neck.

It hissed in irritation, and then realisation came. She saw fear in those slitted eyes…

And then the wristblade snapped out, tearing Ery'lors'e cha's head from the neck. Acid splashed, and she rolled to avoid the worst of it.

Elysa spotted Tyrion, who was in trouble. He'd been using his speargun to very effectively nail his attacker to the wall, but it had managed to free itself each time, and his last spear was gone.

She fired a second grenade. The months of surviving the dangers of Hades paid off, and the explosive impacted on the Hybrid's skull. It crumpled, tried unsuccessfully to regenerate the damage, and came to a shuddering halt.

Elysa spun to see Shadow ram his opponent into the wall, and with the brief respite that gave, killed it.

Kal'Arak'e was standing over the corpse of the Hybrid he had faced, bleeding badly but looking intact apart from that.

There was only one Hybrid left, and it was locked in combat with Spiketail.

The loss of its comrades had hit the thing that had once been Artemis badly; it seemed to be slower, and the attacks were half-hearted. The eyes kept darting towards the doorway to the rest of the complex.

Spiketail saw her opening, and slashed at the skull. A top section was sliced clean off, and the Hybrid slammed into a wall out of her reach.

Something suddenly changed.

As Spiketail advanced, the damage regenerated itself, but the creature made no move to get up.

The drone reached forward to make the death blow.

_(No!)_

She hesitated.

The Hybrid reached towards the grisly, hissing mess that had been part of its skull before, and plucked something from it. Flesh dripped off it, to reveal a shiny, metallic cylinder.

_(You freed me,)_ it said quietly. _(This is the chip that the Sentinel used to control me.)_

>Artemis?> said Spiketail.

_(I think it's really me this time,)_ the Hybrid said sadly. _(You have given me my freedom. A pity I will not live to enjoy it.)_

Artemis tried to raise herself up, and abruptly convulsed. _(It's begun already,)_ she said bitterly. _(Trust the Sentinel to not leave anything to chance. I have a second implant that injects deadly venom into me if I lose the controlling one.)_ The half-breed looked up at the six surrounding her. _(My thanks for giving me the chance to see the world without all that filth in my mind.)_ The convulsion came again, more strongly this time. She hissed, and blood welled up from her mouth.

>What about your regenerative abilities?> said Shadow, puzzled.

_(This bypasses them. I have seconds to live. Spiketail…)_

>Yes?>

Artemis crumpled to the ground. _(I never answered your question. There was another saved… from the **Asphodel**… and I think you know who it is…)_ The light in the Hybrid's eyes died, and the eyelids flickered shut.

With that, the oppressive influence on the minds of Elysa and the Xenos vanished.

Everyone was silent.

"That's one more black mark on Tartarus' reputation, then," said Elysa. 


	8. Chapter 8

The corridors were eerily silent, the only sound being the sound of their own feet as they advanced through the Cytheran complex.

_>It's Talon, isn't it,>_ said Shadow.

Spiketail hissed gently. _>How did you guess?>_

Elysa looked up, her new abilities allowing her to listen to their conversation, but she said nothing.

_>It was fairly obvious. You were never exactly forthcoming, but we've known each other for a long time. I could tell that you were… not sad exactly, but I can't think of a better word, about something. Now along comes Artemis saying that there was another **Asphodel** survivor, and you perk up. The only person I can think of who really meant anything to you on that ship was Talon.>_

_>Artemis only confirmed it,>_ said Spiketail. _>I've been having… dreams. About… about the humans that I've killed. They said that Talon was not among the dead. I didn't dare hope, but now… and you can feel that distant Alien mind, can't you? There is something ahead, even if it can't communicate with us. The Queen knows I've tried, but there's no response.>_

_>Did your… victims say anything else?>_ asked Shadow hesitantly.

Spiketail turned, almost snapping at him. _>No! Nothing important!> _

_>I just thought that if they knew about Talon… they might be able to help us now. Against Tartarus.>_

_>How could they? They're figments of my imagination! I really don't want to talk about it.>_

Shadow was silent.

The corridor they had been following since the encounter with the Hybrids abruptly became a junction. Doors blocked all the routes out.

_"What now?"_ snarled Othar'a frustratedly.

Her question was partially answered when a door slammed down behind them, blocking the way they had come.

>Now, we hope that their facility isn't Xeno proof…> said Shadow, and he leapt onto a wall.

"What are you doing?" called Elysa.

The drone made no response, and abruptly started hacking at a section of wall. Tan debris fell to the ground around them.

>This,> he said in satisfied tones.

The attack had revealed a narrow tunnel set in the wall about three metres from the ground. Jagged remnants of the metal covering lay on the edges.

"Where does that go?" asked Tyrion doubtfully.

>I have no idea,> Shadow replied. >But we don't have a great deal of choice.>

The clicking of Cytheran feet sounded behind one of the doors, growing louder rapidly.

_"I think our choices just ran out,"_ said Kal'Arak'e decidedly. He leapt for the tunnel, and pulled himself in.

"We can't get up there!" said Tyrion.

Spiketail muttered something about human inadequacy, and more or less threw both humans into the tunnel before climbing in herself.

Othar'a jumped for the narrow opening, and hauled herself into the tunnel just as a grating sound announced the opening of one of the doors.

She peered down, and saw twelve assorted Cythera, mostly Stalkers, milling around the junction. High-pitched buzzing hisses sounded, and the eyeslits flickered through the entire spectrum of colour.

Abruptly, one looked up at the tunnel entrance, screeched triumphantly, and crouched to leap.

She scrambled on all fours (the tunnel was too low for anything else) down the rocky passage, and tossed a Thei-bpi-de behind her. The Stalker screeched in an oddly familiar way, and recoiled as the plasma explosive collapsed the tunnel entrance.

>What was that?>

_"Our exit going,"_ said Othar'a. _"I had to block it, they were giving chase."_

_"Then I was right, our choices have run out,"_ said Kal'Arak'e dryly.

* * *

The tunnel didn't seem to be a natural part of the facility. It was entirely rock-based, with no metallic components at all. Not that that meant a great deal with technology that had been around for the best part of two billion years. 

It was also very low, forcing them to crawl, or occasionally stoop. The Aliens were used to travelling on all fours, but their companions suffered.

There was a thump and a muffled cry of pain as Elysa rammed her head into an outcropping. That was the other problem – the tunnel was almost completely dark. The Yautja, with their helmets and filters, could see fine, and the battery of senses available to Shadow and Spiketail allowed them to see as though it were midday, but Elysa and Tyrion had to rely on clutching onto the Xenomorphs' tails to ensure that they didn't go too wrong.

And suddenly there was light.

Faint, but easy to pick out in this total darkness.

It was a glowing panel, set in the wall. The rock became metal, and the rough-hewn passage became the solid lines of an artificial section.

_"A maintenance shaft, perhaps?"_ said Kal'Arak'e.

"What was that bit we just came from, though?" asked Tyrion suspiciously. "A natural fault in the rock that just happened to connect up with this?"

Spiketail reached out to enter the new metal framework, and recoiled as her claw sank straight through the apparently solid metal.

>What the hell was _that_?> she demanded. >I can see it with my eyes and my sonar, but I still go straight through it!>

Othar'a felt the metal tentatively. Her hand went straight through, and she grunted, satisfied. _"A hologram surrounded by a low-power force field. Your sonar isn't strong enough to penetrate it, but your claws had enough force to go straight through. Someone's playing games here, and I think we all know who."_

>What's the point of it, though?> pondered Shadow. >Only one way to find out, I suppose.> He pressed his head through the holographic corridor to see what was below, and recoiled.

>Tartarus was hoping that we'd be careless,> he hissed. >There's some sort of electrified spiked pit right below the hologram. I didn't see any Cythera, but there don't really need to be any.>

_"So Tartarus found a useful rock corridor that linked up to what sounds like a power distribution grid, fired up a hologram, and hoped that we'd impale ourselves along the way,"_ mused Othar'a. _"Did you see any possible way forward?"_

>Who knows? The only thing I could see was that grid of yours, and this hologram. We can see an end to the corridor at this end, but that could just be part of the illusion. If only we could get rid of the hologram, things would be a lot simpler.>

Othar'a cautiously looked down through the hologram.

_"You won't like this,"_ she commented. _"There's a control station to one side of the grid that looks like it leads somewhere else. That's our best bet. The problem is that a power distribution grid like this has a top and a bottom, and power courses between the upper spikes and the lower ones." _

"So there are spikes right above us… and while we're climbing down to this control station of yours, a big lightning bolt could jolt across the cavern," said Elysa. "Nice place."

_"It will not be easy, but if we stick _very_ close to the wall, we can make it."_

Spiketail sighed. >From feared killing machine to common pack horse. Get on, Elysa, and let's run the gauntlet.>

Elysa gripped the drone's back spines tightly, took a deep breath – and then they were climbing.

The cavern was massive, the ceiling disappearing into darkness occasionally lit by arcs of electricity that jolted from the huge, four metre tall spikes that lined the bottom of it in neat rows. The spikes themselves had lightning-blue lines crawling across them, and the air hummed unpleasantly.

To the left side of the cavern, a small platform lay in a spike-free area. A corridor leaving the cavern was just visible.

Then a spike right below them discharged.

Elysa managed to shut her eyes tightly, but was still nearly blinded by the electricity coursing through the air. She felt heat, as though a few sparks had leapt off onto her, and then it was over.

Spiketail screeched in shock, and then started moving again, more slowly this time.

"What's the matter?" Elysa called.

>I can't see!> the Alien snarled back. >My visual receptors are gone. I'm going purely on sonar, which is not ideal in a place like this.>

Elysa spotted a blue corona forming around another nearby spike, and squeezed her eyes shut against the flash.

>My senses are all fuzzy…> complained Spiketail. >This is the problem with not having eyelids. And don't even get me started on my electrical senses.>

"Let's move across the wall instead of down," said Elysa. "Better to decend into that platform than climb onto it from the side. And we might avoid the lightning more."

>Let's hope,> the drone replied tersely.

Again Elysa shut her eyes against the intense burst of light from an electrical burst.

A cry of pain sounded from above them, and Elysa sent a look upwards. It looked like a discharge had partially rerouted itself into Othar'a's armour, but the Yautja seemed otherwise unharmed.

>The worst of this is that I have to climb head upwards with you on my back,> hissed Spiketail. >My agility goes out the window.>

"Try me," said Elysa.

A vicious mental grin flickered across the mental link, and Spiketail altered her direction.

Her passenger yelped, and gripped tighter. They were certainly going faster now, but Elysa constantly felt in danger of falling.

>This is nothing,> Spiketail commented. >If I could see properly, we'd be flying along.>

Elysa felt a sudden tingling sensation, and looked down. Sparks were flying into the pulse rifle she had strapped to her side.

A corona was forming around the nearest spike.

She swore, and regardless of personal safety clawed at the holster keeping the rifle in place. The straps released and the rifle fell just as the spike discharged.

Elysa screamed as the light burnt into her eye-sockets, and then again as shards of red-hot metal from the pulse rifle flew into her.

"Now _I_ can't see," she said weakly, brushing off the remnants of the weapon.

>Only a few more metres.>

She waited for her eyesight to return. This had happened before, mostly after looking at a flash grenade by accident while she was training with the **_Asphodel_**'s crew.

Evidently the lightning that coursed through this chamber was stronger than a mere grenade.

The feeling of climbing vanished, and she sensed they were on solid ground.

A feeling of claws on her face, turning her to face something.

Spiketail hissed. >My eyesight isn't working, but I can't see any damage with my sonar. We'll have to wait for the others.>

Movement not far away.

"What happened?" Tyrion's voice.

>She looked at one of those electricity bolts,> said Spiketail. >Couldn't help it, I think she was about to get incinerated because of her pulse rifle.>

"I can't see anything wrong with her eyes," Tyrion said after a pause.

>That's probably bad,> said Shadow. >We should get out of this place. The Yautja might be able to help when they catch up with us. There were a few close calls with their armour.>

A guiding hand led her somewhere. The humming in the air faded.

A thump nearby, murmured words, strange, scaly hands on her face.

_"I'm no expert in ooman physiology,"_ said Othar'a. _"But there's definitely some damage to the optic nerve, or something along those lines. This should repair the damage; nerves are easy to repair. Oh, and this will be rather painful…"_

A gentle brushing of something on her cheek. "Like most of Yautja medicine, you mean?" Elysa commented.

Mind-crushing agony flooded through her, as though red-hot spears had been thrust into her eyes.

It was still dark. Then she realised that her eyelids were closed.

She opened them. Vision returned, blurry, but there.

There was a collective sharp intake of breath.

Her eyes had changed. Evidently the strands of Xenomorph DNA had infiltrated the healing process again; her eyes no longer had whites, or an iris. All that were left were pure black orbs.

"Something happened?" she guessed.

Tyrion explained.

>Can you see anything differently?> asked Shadow. >When your stomach wound was healed, you became able to hear the hive mind. Perhaps your vision has been changed.>

Elysa considered this for a moment. "I'll get back to you on that," she said. "For now, we need to keep moving. Excitement over."

_"She's right. We must have entered the main facility, wherever that is. Tartarus cannot be far ahead."_

They moved slowly through the corridors, listening for the telltale clattering of Cythera, but once again there was an eerie silence apart from the distant cracking of the power grid behind them.

Then the corridor turned, and they came to a massive room. The corridor led onto an overhead walkway that looked down on the rest of it. Tall panels lined the room's walls and the intersections that littered it at ground level, with an effect rather like that of a locker room.

The sound they had been dreading, the sound of a Cytheran approaching.

A Warrior entered the room at ground level, and a panel opened in the wall to reveal a deep recess. The Cytheran stepped inside, and long cables extended to link up with the armour.

The armour split open.

The _real_ Cytheran was revealed.

It was very spindly, and like the armour it used, had four long arms and short legs. Claws tipped all its limbs. It had dark, blackish-grey skin and a mouthful of needle-like teeth. The head was domed and smooth, in a contrast to the rest of the body. The two eyes were thin and slit-like.

The effect was remarkably similar to a Xenomorph.

The Cytheran moved with a strange loping motion to another panel in the wall, and vanished in green flash of a teleporter.

"Remember what the Cythera called Aliens? 'The Corrupted'? Maybe there's some connection between the two races…"

>There is,> said Shadow. >The Jockeys must have had a twisted sense of humour…>

Everyone looked at him, puzzled, and he realised that he had broken the promise he had made himself to keep what the Pilot had told him secret.

_"What do you mean?"_ asked Othar'a curiously.

He explained.

* * *

CONTACT HAS BEEN LOST WITH GROUP AYH-1 

FULL FACILITY SCAN INITIATING

SCAN COMPLETE

SIX ABNORMAL BIO-ELECTRIC SIGNALS DETECTED IN CYTHERAN ARMOURY 7

ACTIVATING COMMAND SEQUENCE 9-ALPHA

CALCULATION ENDS

* * *

There was a very long silence. 

>There were theories that Xenomorphs were artificial life-forms before,> said Spiketail slowly. >There were several features that didn't seem to have any logical evolutionary history.>

_"This can't be possible,"_ said Othar'a flatly. _"We Yautja have always been free to roam the stars! To think anything else is…"_

>Blasphemous?> suggested Shadow sardonically. >How do you explain your legends of the Old Ones? Do you really think that those are just a set of nice stories? They fit the history too well.>

_"He has a point,"_ said Kal'Arak'e quietly. _"Maybe this is simply a chapter of our history that has been forgotten, intentionally or otherwise. It doesn't sit very well with our outlook on life, does it? Knowing that we were once slaves to another race?" _

_"It couldn't have been forgotten that thoroughly to be reduced to legends,"_ snapped Othar'a. _"This is a nonsense, based on a legend and the ramblings of a dying alien."_

"Has your technology advanced in living memory?" asked Elysa pryingly.

Othar'a hesitated. _"Very little,"_ she replied grudgingly, seeing where the human's point was going. _"Our weaponry and technology has changed little in millions of years."_

>Perhaps in around one and a half billion human years?> said Spiketail with surprising gentleness. She could see how difficult it was to accept a completely new view on the universe. >Look on the bright side. Xenomorphs were not only the slaves of the Pilots, but we were created by them, and destroyed at a whim.>

Othar'a made no reply.

Kal'Arak'e opened his mouth to make a comment about the alliance between Xenomorphs and Yautja being taken completely in their stride, when there was a familiar clicking of Cytheran claws.

A huge mob of assorted Warriors and Stalkers moved into the room below them, at least twenty of the armoured aliens.

Helmets rotated, eyeslits flickered.

They clearly knew that something was there, and it was only a matter of time before one looked up. They had had difficulty in killing Cythera in a one-on-one – this would be slaughter.

>Forwards,> said Spiketail as quietly as possible.

They crawled along the walkway towards the corridor at the end. Still the Cythera milled around.

Then one looked up, and all hell was unleashed.

Blasts of red light lit up the room, missing by inches as the six gave up all subtlety and sprinted for the end of the walkway.

The walkway vibrated as something landed on it, and Spiketail caught a brief glimpse of the hated Stalkers leaping onto the path behind them.

Then they were in the corridor, and the blasts from the Warriors stopped.

They kept going, the rapid clicking of the pursuing Stalkers driving them on.

And then they were on another walkway, overlooking a similar room to the one they had just escaped.

There was one big difference. The walkway met solid rock.

Dead end, with the chasing Stalkers intent on putting stress on the 'dead' part.

>Get down! Try to evade them in that maze of blocks!>

Elysa dropped from the walkway and landed heavily. She winced, but ran on around a corner.

There was a soft chittering from the other side of the block, and soft clicking sounds echoed through the room.

She stealthily drew her plasma pistol, mentally swearing about the loss of the pulse rifle. More primitive it might have been, but she had a feeling that the metal slugs would have been more effective against the heat-resistant armour.

Judging by what had happened against the Stalker back on the Yautja ship, she could take one down if she was quick and accurate.

A screech of Alien bloodlust echoed around the room, and there was the sound of a scuffle somewhere.

Then nothing but silence, and the steady click, click, click of the Stalkers' clawed feet.

One appeared around the corner, and spotted her immediately.

Despite inwardly preparing herself, she still paused in shock before aiming the weapon. Super heated gas streamed from the pistol's muzzle, and enough shots burned their way through the Stalker's armour to land a fatal shot. It crumpled, smoke trailing from the hole in its torso.

Elysa didn't wait for more Stalkers to arrive, but dived around the next corner. She mentally replayed the last few seconds and groaned. Nine shots gone. There would be a long wait before she could do more than slow a Stalker again.

Click, click, click.

There was a clash of metal nearby, and a Yautja snarl of fury. Again metal clashed, and then there was a thump as something hit the floor. An Alien hiss, and a faint scuttling sound.

How many Stalkers were there? From the sound of it, three were out of action. Ten?

She dived around the next block, and almost collided with a Stalker. Both combatants were surprised by the appearance of the other, but the Cytheran quickly recovered.

Elysa more of less fell backwards to avoid the lethal swipe of her attacker's claws. She fired the last shot, scoring a hit on the helmet. Although apparently unharmed, the Stalker paused.

The flash must have blinded it, she realised. If she were quick and stealthy, she could escape before it recovered.

Something (her ammo belt, perhaps) clicked on the floor, and the Cytheran lunged forwards like an avenging angel. She rolled over, barely avoiding the clawed feet, and crawled around the next corner.

There was a soft swishing sound very close to hand, and she looked around anxiously.

_>Elysa!>_ came Spiketail's voice. _>Don't say anything, just nod if you can hear me.>_

It was a hive-link, Elysa realised. The Cythera couldn't overhear it. She nodded.

_>Good. Can you fight at the moment?>_

She shook her head.

_>Run out of power?>_

Nod.

_>Ok. I need you to be bait here.>_

What! she mouthed.

_>Yes, you heard me. I'm out of sight at the moment, but in danger of being spotted and ribboned. Go to the end of that row – you'll see a Stalker pacing around. Attract its attention and stay alive for a few seconds; I'll do the rest.>_

What the hell. You can only die once.

She walked around the corner, and was promptly spotted by the Stalker in question. It lunged, and was yanked backwards by a black tail that extended from above. Spiketail sunk her claws into the join between the helmet and armour, and the Cytheran crumpled.

Good one, Elysa mouthed.

Spiketail pointed down a corridor, and then leapt back onto the top of the 'lockers'.

The human moved down the indicated corridor, and checked the plasma pistol. Strange hieroglyphs lined a glowing panel.

She strained her memory, and recalled that they were Yautja numerals. Base nine.

She checked the panel again, and came to the conclusion that she had three shots. Not enough.

A human cry of surprise, and the thud of a speargun.

Hopefully, that made five down. Five to go.

Four shots. An Alien screech of pain somewhere nearby, followed by a series of rapid thumps as though something was being rammed into the floor repeatedly.

Chittering on the other side of her block, and twin Yautja roars of challenge. Metal clashed, and then silence again.

_>There's only one left,>_ said Spiketail. _>I can't see it, so watch out.> _

Five shots.

Six shots, and there was a scrape behind her.

Instinct took over, and she leapt forwards. The Stalker hissed in irritation, and lunged again. Almost of its own accord, the plasma pistol rose and spat super heated gas.

As the smoke cleared, the helmet had been melted off but the Cytheran itself seemed unharmed. It flicked its claws out, and she did something suicidal.

She charged it.

As intended, the move caught the Stalker off guard. Her fist connected with the Cytheran's head, and it recoiled.

She punched again, but this time it snapped its teeth, drawing blood. It readied itself to unleash a killing blow, and then sprouted a speargun dart from its neck.

"Nice shot," said Elysa shakily.

_"Thank you,"_ said Othar'a. _"That's the last one. We should move out – we managed to deal with these ones by surprise. The next set will be better prepared."_

They walked around a corner to find the wall of the room, with the other four standing there.

"Wait," said Elysa suddenly. "Did anyone else hear strange swish?"

Spiketail stiffened. >I did, and I know where I recognised it from. One of those damned Cytheran teleporters. But what does it mean?>

_"Either a Cytheran arrived, or it left,"_ said Kal'Arak'e._ "More likely the latter, or we would be seeing it." _

Elysa considered the memory. Had there been a grinding sound? As though one of these panels had opened?

Her eyes tracked – and she realised that her vision wasn't changing. She tried to move her eyes again… and then it hit her that she had a much wider field of vision than normal.

"I think I just found what my new eyes do," she said. "It's like I can see in all directions at once. When I move my eyes, nothing changes."

Othar'a looked at the little black orbs. _"That would make sense, based on their appearance. Mimicking the entire head of a kainde amedha."_

"Perhaps it would be best if you tried to steer clear of that healing fluid in future, eh?" suggested Tyrion. "I'd prefer it if you didn't change too much on me."

The laughter was cut short by a grinding noise at the end of the row.

A panel opened in the wall to reveal a Cytheran Warrior. The barrels of its weapons tracked towards the six, and Spiketail leapt.

The alien's claws rose to protect itself, but she was too quick. The weak spot just below the head caved in beneath her attack, and it crumpled with a screech. There was a whine as one of the Cytheran's weapons discharged, and then it fell still.

She turned back to the group, and screeched, a noise of fury and loss.

Lying against the wall, a massive cauterised wound across his torso, was the limp body of Shadow.

>NO! You can't die on me! Not after all we've been through! Go dormant, quickly!>

>Too… much… damage…> he murmured. >Maybe… it's better… this way…>

>What are you talking about?> said Spiketail. >There must be something I can do…>

>Shut up… a moment, will you? Even if… we escaped this hellhole… I'd still be… Alien. I couldn't… survive like that. You treated… this as a blessing… while I treated it… as a curse. Maybe… you… were… wiser… than… I… was…>

There was silence, both physical and mental.

Spiketail looked at the dead body of her companion, dumbstruck, and then raised her head to the ceiling and screamed her loss to the uncaring world.


	9. Chapter 9

_"We should keep moving,"_ said Othar'a quietly.

Spiketail screeched at her. >Shadow is DEAD! Don't you care? Are there any feelings going through that Yautja head of yours? What…> The drone trailed off helplessly.

_"Don't insult me, Spiketail,"_ snapped Othar'a, and then continued in softer tones, _"More Cythera will arrive any moment. Shadow was my friend too. In time, I will mourn his death. But for now, we must proceed in our purpose. The destruction of Tartarus. This is one more thing to take vengeance on that computer for."_

Spiketail seemed to crumple. _>We argued all the time,>_ she said softly. _>Always fought over what was right. And now… now he's gone, and I never had a chance to… I don't know. We were friends, and now…>_

"You three go on ahead," said Elysa. "We'll cover the rear." She looked at Spiketail sadly, her abilities meaning that she was the only one who had heard those last sentences. "He knew," she said quietly. "You're not alone in mourning his passing, but he was a practical soul. He wouldn't have wanted us to stay there crying our eyes out. He would have wanted us to finish what we started."

Whether Spiketail would have responded or not is a mystery, as an intense image flared through both their minds.

Moving along a corridor.

Third chamber on the left.

Press the control panel.

"…Elysa! Wake up!"

She stirred, and then sat bolt upright. "How long was I out?"

"About thirty seconds," replied Tyrion, looking relieved. "What happened?"

>I think we just found Talon,> said Spiketail. >She sent us an image. Or at least I _think_ it was her.>

_"It could be Tartarus trying to deceive us,"_ said Othar'a doubtfully.

"It's the same 'voice' that told me what symbol would take us to this facility," said Elysa. "Not even Tartarus is that overconfident."

_"Very well,"_ said Kal'Arak'e. _"Lead the way."_

There was a green flash behind them from the armoury.

"More bloody Cythera," groaned Tyrion.

>Run!>

They reached a junction, and Spiketail paused. >That way!> she called, and sprinted off.

Elysa had a strange feeling of déjà vu as they moved down the corridor, the tramp of Cytheran feet behind them.

Third chamber on the left.

"In here!"

Adrenalin (or whatever equivalent Yautja have) overrode any doubts, and everyone piled into the room. Spiketail pressed a control embedded in the wall, and the door closed.

The clicking from their pursuers stopped outside the door, and then there was silence.

>I think we're safe,> said Spiketail.

"How did you know pressing that would close the door?" asked Tyrion.

>I didn't,> she confessed. >I just had a feeling that I should press it.>

The room was the traditional Cytheran tan, with arrays of bulges in the walls on one side. A small control panel stood in front of each.

Elysa moved towards one of these, and purposefully pressed a control.

The bulge in front of her turned transparent, and a familiar figure was revealed.

The Xenomorph known as Talon was curled up in a foetal position. Long cables and pipes linked her to the narrow walls of the chamber, and two massive spikes were embedded in her skull.

The spikes withdrew and the piping slowly retracted. Restraints snapped away, and the now transparent cover folded away.

The Alien slowly fell onto the ground, still in the foetal position.

Spiketail cautiously approached, and the figure stirred.

>Talon?>

Talon uncoiled, looked around, and hissed threateningly. >Back off! No more games!>

>What are you talking about? It's _me_!> said Spiketail, puzzled.

>Why oh why do you do this to me, Tartarus?> Talon screeched to the air. >Does it give you some sadistic pleasure, giving me hope and then showing me that it's all a sham?>

_>Talon, listen to me!>_ said Spiketail. _>This is real! Whatever you have been put through, it is over now. Look at me. Look at me!>_

The other turned reluctantly to face her. _>Enough of this!>_ Talon said abruptly. _>I have been through this a thousand times before. Enough times to know a sham.> _

_>Too many times to know the truth?>_ Spiketail approached, and reached out towards her protégé.

Talon slowly reached out a clawed hand to meet Spiketail's, and seemed to crumple. _>Spiketail? It's over, isn't it? Please say it's over.> _

_>It's over,>_ said Spiketail sadly. _>What did that thing do to you? When we saw the Hybrids, I feared that you might be changed into a mindless pawn, but you have clearly suffered worse than that.>_

Talon shuddered, and looked towards the other four for the first time. >You made it, then. All of you. Welcome to the belly of the beast.>

_"Not quite all,"_ said Othar'a quietly.

Talon looked puzzled, and then realisation came. >How did he die?> she said softly.

>A meaningless death. One that he stood no chance against. Shadow died because of a… a fluke of chance,> said Spiketail viciously.

_"Don't listen to her,"_ said Othar'a. _"She still feels the deep bite of grief. He died after facing a battle that would have ended a lesser being against a far superior opponent. A Cytheran caught us off guard and shot him down before Spiketail killed it."_

>I'm surprised Tartarus didn't torment me with that moment,> said Talon. >It's tormented me with just about every loss I've ever experienced many times already.>

"How did you survive the wreck of the **_Asphodel_**? We all saw it get destroyed, yet both you and Artemis survived it."

Talon sighed mentally. >You saw the beam hit the ship? There was short delay before any damage was inflicted, during which anything that Tartarus wanted to save was teleported off. I can remember seeing Vathris' face as he realised that he had fatally underestimated T-T… then I was in an underground chamber, surrounded by Cythera.

>I thought they were pushovers after seeing the Hive slaughter them back on the **_Charon_**, and I attacked them. They wiped the floor with me, and then when I was a little less aggressive, I was taken to some sort of science lab. There were eight others there, mostly from the **_Asphodel_**, but there were a few Yautja there too.

>I looked around and remembered what Vathris had said about the labs in the basements of the **_Asphodel_**, that they were for some of T-T's little projects. At that point, a wall started glowing and words came up. It was Tartarus, of course. Saying that thanks to the **_Asphodel_**'s research, it had produced the ultimate guardians. It just needed subjects to test the serum on.

>It was a retrovirus, of course. I saw them all change. Slowly, over several hours. Obviously this one wasn't perfect, as a couple of people died in the process. Nastily, too – one had his blood become acidic before his body could cope, and the result was a very painful death.

>They were just about to inject that stuff into me when the screen came on again, and said to leave me out of it. Didn't say why, but I was rather grateful. Changing into something else is bad enough once. Then all the others who survived the change were strapped into some sort of medical apparatus, and two objects were implanted into them. Before that, we were all fighting to escape, to get _away_… and then they stopped. I contacted them, and they just sounded like machines. Some sort of mind control. Then I was dragged away, and that's the last I saw of them. You saw Artemis again?>

>We did,> said Spiketail mournfully. >She was changed. She tried to kill me until I accidentally destroyed the chip that controlled her. The second implant killed her soon after that with a venom injection. She told us that you were still alive, and then died. Poor girl. As I said, I was scared that you might have the same implants, but apparently not.>

>No,> said Talon bitterly. >Tartarus had a worse fate for me. It had just discovered that you had escaped from the Yautja ship that it had attacked, and wanted to pump me for information about you. It didn't want me harmed by accident by the retrovirus, and implanting that chip might cause brain damage. So I was implanted into it, instead. In there.> She flicked her tail towards the now empty chamber. >It could read my mind like a book, and tried to engineer situations that would stump you. I just stayed like that for a long time, trying to stop it from ravaging my memories, and then I discovered that it worked both ways. I had limited access to Tartarus itself. I could see what it could see of its bases, and had a rough idea of where you were. I saw you on a Cytheran ship, about to use a teleporter, and I used the transmitters on it to send you the right symbol.>

"How did you know what symbol it was?" asked Tyrion.

>Something else I learned from hacking into T-T. I learned the entire teleporter network while linked in.> Talon hissed viciously. >Tartarus didn't like my interfering, oh no. It started playing me images and memories to keep me occupied. I fought past it and tried to send you a message, and it got angry. Started playing tricks with my sense of time, and started taunting me with images where you released me, and when I tried to touch you, you dissolved into mist… it was horrible. Then I found an opening again, and showed you how to find and release me.

>It was really angry then, as it didn't want to lose any advantages over you. That nightmare kept coming until I knew exactly what was going to happen, and it was just as bad every time. It felt like years before I was free again, and I saw you coming through that very door. I told you how to block off the door, Spiketail, and Tartarus submerged me again. And then it was over. Here I am. How long was it since I sent you that teleporter symbol?>

Everyone turned away. _"About two ooman hours,"_ said Kal'Arak'e.

>Two hours…> said Talon bitterly. >It felt like months.>

_"Another crime to make the Sentinel pay for,"_ said Othar'a angrily. _"The more I know of it, the more I know in my very blood that it deserves destruction." _

"Here's where I ask a stupid question," butted in Elysa. "There are who know how many Cythera outside that door. How do we get past them to take an axe to that thing's core?"

Talon hissed softly, and moved towards the wall control panel. A rapid sequence of commands later, and the doors opened.

"Are you completely insane?" squealed Elysa.

Stalkers swarmed into the room, claws flashing, but they did not attack.

The ranks parted, and another Cytheran emerged. Outwardly it looked like a Warrior, but with a larger helmet and heavier armour. The same model that had led the attack on the Yautja ship.

>Skal-e-taral,> said Talon.

The Cytheran cocked its head on one side, and moved forwards. "That is a name that I have not been called in many millennia, Corrupted One. How do you know it?"

The Stalkers moved restlessly, but froze and a hand gesture from Skal-e-taral.

>I know a lot about you. You are the last survivor of the Cytheran warship **_Leyestara_**, that landed on this planet 1,573,283,927 human years ago. The last Cythera in the galaxy after the Old One's purge. The last Cytheran in existence to have a name, not just a designation. The last Cytheran Warlord.>

The Warlord chittered softly. "An impressive array of knowledge. What do you intend to do with it? You called me by my name over the network, and through curiosity I halted the attack."

>Look at what your people have become, Skal-e-taral. You may be old, but surely you can remember what your race once achieved. Nothing stood in the way of the Cytheran Domains. Even the Old Ones themselves retreated from you until the Corrupted were created! You once had the galaxy within your grasp, and now you are used as shock troops by your own creation, a machine that never fulfilled its purpose and has no more regard for your lives than it does for the lowliest Squealer on the surface! Can you honestly say that you feel proud with your lot in life?> Talon moved towards the tan monster. >I know that Tartarus tries to control you with its chips, but I also know that there is a spark within you that resists that. What do you say, Warlord?> With that, she knelt into a curious salute, her fist resting on her bowed head.

Skal-e-taral stood watching the kneeling Alien for some time.

And then, slowly returned the gesture.

"You speak truth, little Corrupted. Perhaps when the Old Ones created your kind, they put more of us in than they realised. I accept your service, and that of your companions. _Taralak_, warrior."

>_Kitterel_, Warlord,> said Talon, rising from the salute.

"You have created hope, in some strange way. Neither I nor any Cytheran will now stand in the way of your quest. When you destroy the Sentinel, know that you have freed a people from their own folly. You will not encounter us again. The Sentinel has bound us to it so tightly that its destruction will take us with it, but do not let that stop you. I… and what spark of individuality that remains in all of my race… would prefer death to this unceasing slavery." Skal-e-taral made the curious kneeling salute, and pressed a switch on his arm.

Green flashes erupted around the room, and the Cythera vanished into the ether.

>_Kitterel_, Warlord,> repeated Talon sadly.

Her four companions remembered to breath. _"What was that about?"_ asked Kal'Arak'e curiously.

>Something that you could not understand if you did not know all that they have been through,> replied Talon. >Come. We have a computer to destroy.> Without another word, she left the room, and the others followed.

Tyrion opened his mouth to ask a question, but Elysa shushed him. "I think that was for her alone," she said quietly. "Like she said, we have a mission to complete and a computer to slag."

They walked through the eerily silent corridors. There was not even the distant sound of activity that had always been there in the background since they entered this level.

_"Where are they?"_ asked Othar'a, puzzled.

>Skal-e-taral teleported all the Cythera to a buffer zone where they exist as pure energy,> said Talon. >When Tartarus is destroyed, that buffer will disintegrate and all that remains of their race will dissipate. The last Cythera will die, at our hands.>

Spiketail looked at her companion, puzzled. Aliens cannot cry for a multitude of reasons, but Talon sounded on the brink of tears. >What's wrong?> she asked. >The Cythera are killing machines that forced you into that chamber, were responsible for building Tartarus to begin with. Even that Skal-whatsit realised that it was better if they were to die.>

Talon spun, claws raised, and then relaxed. >I suppose that you have more experience at almost getting killed by them than me, and you have not seen their history from their own eyes. They are memories that I cannot share. That you cannot understand. Just… leave me to my grief, and say nothing more about it.>

Spiketail mentally shrugged, and stayed silent. Talon was right, it was something she could not understand, but it was something she could respect.

At that moment they heard a distant humming sound.

The rounded a corner, and a massive door blocked the way. Talon went to the control panel at the side, and tapped in a complicated sequence of commands.

The door opened to reveal a small, dark room.

The ceiling was writhing with electricity that flowed down into a small cylinder that stood in pride of place.

>Meet Tartarus,> said Talon grimly. >That cylinder is all that makes up the computer. Destroy it and the Cytheran's greatest mistake will be erased forever.>

_"Simple enough,"_ said Othar'a, and activated her plasma casters. A storm of plasma slammed into the cylinder, obscuring it in blue flashes.

The onslaught stopped, and the cylinder was still intact.

The Yautja looked at the unharmed computer core, gobsmacked.

>Energy field,> said Talon crisply. >A healthy chunk of the power generated by this facility goes into protecting that cylinder. It's more or less invulnerable to external influence.>

YOUR FRIEND IS CORRECT

The wall on one side of the room lit up with the words.

THIS FORCE FIELD WAS DESIGNED TO RESIST A FORCE IN EXCESS OF THAT OF A FUSION WEAPON

PRIMITIVE PLASMA WEAPONRY HAS NO HOPE OF PENETRATING IT

>External influences, but not _internal_,> continued Talon, ignoring the smug lettering. >It requires a very regulated power source. It regulates it itself, but with the appropriate command sequence it can be overridden. Thanks to the knowledge I gained while plugged in, I know that command sequence.>

The screen went blank for a moment.

IMPOSSIBLE

THAT INFORMATION IS PROTECTED IN THE DEEPEST SECTION OF MY PROGRAMMING

REGARDLESS OF WHAT INFORMATION YOU GAINED DURING YOUR CONNECTION, YOU COULD NOT HAVE PENETRATED THAT FAR

>Watch me,> hissed Talon, responding to Tartarus for the first time. She went up to one of the four control panels that encircled the cylinder, and started pressing keys.

THE PROBABILITY OF YOU SUCCESSFULLY LOCATING THAT COMMAND SEQUENCE AND BEING ABLE TO INPUT IT INTO AN ALIEN COMPUTER SYSTEM ARE NEGLIGABLE

Talon pressed one final key.

CONTROL OVER POWER REGULATORS HAS BEEN OVERRIDDEN

The screen went blank.

>In order to destroy Tartarus for good, we need to feed it an overdose that will literally fry its circuits. Four commands need to be entered, one on each control panel. The left uppermost symbol on the first three, and the middle symbol on the fourth.>

"I'll do one," said Elysa.

_"As will I,"_ said Othara.

>And me,> hissed Spiketail.

The screen flickered on again.

I HAVE EXISTED FOR 1,573,295,677.329 TERRAN YEARS! I CANNOT BE ENDED NOW!

Othar'a looked pitilessly at the cylinder. _"For your crimes in waylaying and directly or indirectly killing countless millions of innocents, you will be 'ended'. Moreover, you have hurt every one of us personally in some way, and our blows will strike all the harder for it. I strike for the many Yautja that you killed for no fault of their own."_ She pressed the control panel, and the lights dimmed.

"This is for the crew of the **_Asphodel_**," spat Elysa, and pressed the second control panel. The electrical conduits feeding into the cylinder sparked and flickered.

>For the crew of the **_Charon_**, and for the abuse you put my mind through,> said Talon, and she pressed her control panel. A rising hum sounded throughout the chamber.

THIS CANNOT BE! THE PROBABILITY OF YOU SUCCEEDING WERE NEGIGABLE!

Spiketail pressed her control panel, and the stored charge earthed itself into the core of Tartarus. >And that's for Shadow,> she said quietly.

NO! INITIATING DIR… CANNOT COMPU… CALCULATION FAILU… CONTACT LOS…

Static arced across the screen, and abruptly cleared for a moment. Electricity streaked across the central core of the computer.

OMEGA DIRECTIVE ACTIVATING

I WILL DIE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT YOU WILL NOT SURV…

ATTACK GROUP ORD…

CRITICAL DAMA…

POWER OVER…

UNA…

CA…

L…

…

The screen went blank, and the very ground shuddered.

>Oh no… it said Omega Directive,> said Talon. >RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!>

They took off, running back the way they had come.

_"What's Omega Directive?"_ asked Othar'a.

>Self destruct,> said Talon tersely. >Something else I picked up while linked into the thing. It'll take this entire facility with it, and considering the amount of space it takes up…>

"So the teleporters?" gasped Elysa.

>Talon, you'd better have been right about knowing the Cytheran teleporter codes,> hissed Spiketail. Electrical arcs played across the walls, and the ground shuddered again, violently enough to knock Tyrion off balance.

>I _got_ you here, remember? Shut it!> Talon stroked the screen gently, and the view changed. >There. Get ready.>

The room jerked visibly, and a distant roar was heard. The teleporter screen flickered.

>No, you don't, you lousy piece of junk!> Talon hammered a symbol on the map, and there was a flash of green light…

Squeezing…

Intense cold…

Stretching…

Green flash…

The familiar dark tones of Yautja technology.

_"Is it just me, or is that thing different every time?"_ mused Kal'Arak'e.

>We should be outside the blast range now,> said Talon.

The ground shuddered.

>…or perhaps not…>

_"The bridge!"_ yelled Othar'a. _"We need to take off!"_

>But the Cytheran orbital lances!> objected Talon. >If they're set to shoot anything that moves, we're toast!>

_"I'll take that chance,"_ the Yautja replied grimly, and vanished down the corridor.

The entire ship rocked, and an ominous cracking resonated through the very air.

They reached the bridge, and the two Yautja began hammering controls. The Man'Daca lurched into the air, still vibrating from the effect of the ground shaking.

_"This is going to be nasty… the sensors are picking up fires in seven locations within five kilometres,"_ said Kal'Arak'e.

_"Then it's time to move,"_ replied Othar'a grimly.

The ship jerked forwards, accelerating rapidly away from the surface.

_"The ground is cracking!"_

The front of the Man'Daca glowed from atmospheric friction, and Othar'a made no response. Stars began to appear through the windows.

With a roar that was deafening inside the bridge, the ground exploded upwards.

The shields screamed as a shockwave of heat, giant chunks of ground and molten rock pounded into the ship like a clipper caught in a hurricane.

Othar'a tapped the control panel like a pianist, and the vessel leapt forwards. The vibrations slowed, and then stopped.

It slowly turned at Othar'a's command, and they saw the planet.

Half of it was gone. The explosion had destroyed the crust on the visible side of the world, leaving the molten core exposed. Even as they watched, magma was ejected into the depths of space.

_"Thus dies Hades,"_ said Kal'Arak'e sadly. _"A planet cannot last like that. The imbalance of heat and cold on the core will cause it to obliterate what is left within days. With it goes the last remnants of two proud races, the Cythera and the Pilots."_ He paused. _"In some strange way, I will miss that world. You had to live with purity of purpose there in order to survive."_

"I won't," replied Elysa with a small smile. "But the death of a world is always a sad thing."

They watched in silence as fragments of the crust spiralled around them.

>So what now?> asked Spiketail.

"Let's go," said Elysa.


	10. Epilogue

_"You still think this is best? You would be welcomed among us,"_ said Kal'Arak'e hopefully.

>I doubt that,> said Spiketail with a laugh. >Humans, maybe, but _kainde amedha_? Hardly. No, this way is best.>

_"Stranger things have happened,"_ said Othar'a. _"You have shown me a new way of thinking about the world. Before I came to Hades, I considered all creatures that were not Yautja as merely prey, something to act as a challenge. I knew of humans as very rarely showing prowess enough to join the ranks of the Hunters, but… now I see that there is a potential behind everything. Even such ruthless killing machines as the kainde amedha."_

"It's a generous offer, but Spiketail is right. We wouldn't fit in," said Elysa. She looked around towards the distant lights of the city, and brushed away some of the grass in the field. "Our place is here. Tyrion and I now know enough about Xenomorphs to help the military clear out some of the infestations. Maybe even reclaim Earth, who knows?"

>And we're just going to hitch a lift at the spaceport and head for some remote place that we won't be noticed,> said Spiketail. >The feeling is mutual, Othar'a. The world is different to me now. Thanks to all of you, the planet, even Tartarus.>

Kal'Arak'e clicked sadly, and then brightened for a moment. _"I nearly forgot."_ He picked up his mask.

"You took the mark off it," said Tyrion in surprise.

"It didn't seem adequate, somehow. We six… and Shadow… have achieved something not even dreamed of by most Yautja." He looked at Spiketail and Talon, and pulled out a small dagger.

Spiketail bowed her head, and the Predator carved a three-pointed star into the carapacing. Talon leaned forwards, and he repeated the procedure on her.

Using the acid on the blade, he carved out the symbol on his own forehead and his mask, and then passed it to Elysa.

The human winced pre-emptively, and pressed the blade against her cheek, carving out the same three-pointed star.

Tyrion did the same, and passed the blade to Othar'a.

The Yautja marked herself and her mask, and handed the dagger to her sibling. Kal'Arak'e carefully attached it to his belt to be repaired later, and the six looked at each other.

"Good luck in the universe," said Othar'a softly.

The two Predators walked back into the ship, and it slowly took off from the field before vanishing from view.

Elysa looked at Spiketail.

"This is goodbye, I suppose," she said. "For good. We're not likely to run into each other again."

>Like Othar'a said, stranger things have happened,> said Talon. >Considering your choice of profession when you get back to civilisation, maybe it's better if we don't meet again.>

The four chuckled. "We'll keep a sharp eye out for any Queens with that triple-pointed star," said Tyrion. "Will you lose it when you Transform?"

>We'll recarve it if necessary. Even if we never see you or Othar'a and Kal'Arak'e again, we'll still be connected in that way.>

The two Aliens vanished into the night, leaving Elysa and Tyrion alone in the field.

"I hope they'll be all right," said Elysa wistfully. "They were good friends. Are good friends."

"What now?"

Elysa pointed to the lights of the city. "Into the future," she said.

_

* * *

There we go. The Hades Chronicles are now complete – it's been a wild ride, and I hope all of you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it._

_For those of you who do not visit the forums here, let me assure you that this is not the last you will hear of Elysa, Tyrion, Spiketail, Talon, Othar'a and Kal'Arak'e. A follow-up is planned, along with a sketchy plot already set – look out for (in the far future) 'The Rising Darkness'._

_You'll have to wait a while for that, though, as before that I have Empires Collide and Rise of the Falcons to finish, and a prequel to the Chronicles to write that tells the history of the war between the Cythera and the Old Ones/Pilots, leading up to the rebellion by the Yautja and Xenomorphs._

_So until then, fare well wherever you may travel, and remember, the Queens are watching…_


End file.
